


i look for you inside me and me inside you

by tapmeawakeinsomnia



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blood and Injury, Bullying, Canon-Typical Violence, Clay and Dream are separate characters, Dream is the Mask, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, NaNoWriMo 2020, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Quests, Realistic Minecraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tapmeawakeinsomnia/pseuds/tapmeawakeinsomnia
Summary: Clay led a normal life before he found that dreaded mask. Living at home with his parents and sister, he didn’t want more excitement in his life.Dream wants to live again. Being a mask makes that just a tad bit harder. Maybe this new kid he’s using as a body will help out?Technoblade has to rebuild his life. Being on his own now is tough, and who knows, how hard would it be to find a new family?Tommy needs to keep running. Only for him, Tubbo. He needs to run. He can never stop. Not even for a second.Skeppy doesn’t want to give up on his dream of being in a hero guild. Roping your childhood friend into it was always a part of the plan.(Written for NaNoWriMo 2020)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot, GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Zak Ahmed & Darryl Noveschosch
Comments: 9
Kudos: 89





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first proper multi-chapter fic and my first NaNoWriMo! Bear with me. I’m sorry for any mistakes in grammar or consistency, my beta reader has been busy recently.

Rats scurry across muddy ground, rain pounding the already wet alleyway floor. Large puddles form around wood scrap, and the rats are quick to duck under.

Water droplets striking the ground are the only sounds echoing through the empty space. 

The tense silence from every small inhabitant of the alley increases as the rain starts to ramp up. Everything holds its breath.

Footsteps start to echo. The already tense atmosphere magnifies as a large figure approaches.

Rain hits the ground with unnatural force, battering the already torn up suit jacket of a newcomer in the alleyway. He grips his shoulder with a weak hand, blood sluggishly leaking through clenched fingers and mixing with the water dripping down his arm. 

Puddles form around his feet as he stands still in the middle of the storm. 

Thunder booms and lightning quickly illuminates the world around him. 

He could feel his hairs stand up on end and he tasted static electricity in his mouth. His back suddenly stood ramrod straight, despite his weakened state. 

He bites back a curse. 

He uses his free hand and reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a flat white disk with leather straps hanging off the ends. The corner was bloodstained, the blood leaking through his jacket and into his jacket’s inner pockets. 

He looks at it, the rain blurring his vision but the red spot on the top of it is still stark against the unnatural white of the mask he was holding. 

He could barely make out the smiling face on it, that taunting smile haunting him every hour. 

Never again, he swears, as he tosses the object like a frisbee, landing upside down and cementing itself in the middle of a puddle. The rain continued on, submerging the disk, which lay flat on the ground. 

The man watches it slowly disappear under the heavy rain before taking off his suit jacket, laying it on his arm, and walking out of the dark alley. 

. . .

Clay could feel the pebble hit him on the forehead before his eyes could register it being thrown. 

He knew they used their power. He could practically sense it at this point how a regular throw felt compared to a wind boosted one.

He’s glad they didn’t throw it as hard as usual this time. 

The stares hurt worse, he thinks to himself as they jeer and point at him. The noise from them tuned itself out as usual, it had been a while since any of it got to him. 

He kept on looking down, making himself as small as possible in hopes of ending this sooner. His mom needed something from him. No way will he be late for his own mom. 

The village kids eventually get the hint and slowly start quieting down. 

He looked up, thinking the torment was finally over.

He was met with piercing eyes and hands poised to shove him down, and before he has a chance to react, he's against the stone wall of the bakery in a cloud of dust. 

With one last smirk, the village kids are quick to saunter away, laughing over their shoulders. 

Clay rights himself as soon as they’re out of his view, shaking the dust off his worn tunic and looks behind his legs for the sack of bread and milk he was trying to hide.

He could tell it was still there and lifted the weighted pack to inspect its contents. 

“The bread might be a little smushed but it’s still good, right?” He murmurs out loud, holding the bag wide open. 

He thinks nothing of it and slings it over his shoulder, the milk bottles jangling as they’re tossed into the air as he walks home.

The walk home is the same as usual, walking through the crowded cobble stones of town as people look past him and the crowd swallows him up. 

He dodges a fleeing chicken, something he’s accustomed to. He could make out several shrieks, one he could tell was the chicken’s owner, and several others who were probably the poor travelers who were startled by the bird. 

Everyday life. 

The familiar steps engraved in his muscle memory let his mind wander, careless in his movement and yet also always somehow on the correct path. 

Looking to the side, he vaguely thinks about the high sun, how it barely has been a second since the last time he made this errand, last year.

He doesn’t notice when he steps on the smooth feather left behind in the chicken’s wake, as it was jostled by many preoccupied villagers in its attempt of escape. 

Somehow he’s now in the air, bread and milk going over his head and in an unstoppable course of landing on solid cobblestone. 

Suddenly, a burly arm goes to catch the sack at the last minute by the top of the bag, dangling it in the air in front of him as another worn hand goes to help lift him up. 

He could tell from the way the leftover clay was under the man’s fingernails and the dryness of his palms that it was his dad. He takes the hand and pulls himself up in a flash with his dad’s help.

“You’ve really gotta stop doing that so much, Clay. You do know it’s your sister’s birthday today, right?” His dad fusses over him, handing over his bag after checking the contents of it for damage. 

“I know, dad,” Clay reassured him, slinging the bag back over his shoulder and balancing it. 

“You do know Drista isn’t going to be happy if you don’t bring her her birthday present this year.” 

“Yes, I know. I’m doing this for mom first so I can go back later and buy her a gift.” Clay says pointedly at his dad, not needing the reminder. 

His dad smirks at him. 

“Well, that’s my son. I’m glad you care for your sister so much. Tell your mom I’ll be back soon with the fruit, alright?” 

Clay nods swiftly at the instructions. 

“Take care, Clay! I won’t be there to catch your falls everyday, you know!” His dad shouts as he walks away from him, calling over his shoulder. 

And with that, his dad’s gone, seamlessly merging into the rest of the crowd. 

Clay sighs, completely used to his dad’s banter. It wasn’t his fault he’s always this clumsy. If anything, he got it from his dad.

He rubs his eyes, shaking off the dust that had gotten in them from when he tripped before turning back to his walk home. 

This time, he’s sharp and aware of the ground in front of him, taking his dad’s words to heart. 

Eventually, the crowds started thinning, signally that he was starting to reach the more residential area of town. 

Now here, he’s finally relieved, since he could finally drop off the fragile glass milk bottles at home and not have to worry about breaking them in his fall and having to see his sister’s disappointed face. 

Even picturing that gave him the shivers.

He speeds up his pace, eager to drop off the items. 

After a while, he finally gets to his house. 

It’s a moderate thing, two stories made up of cobblestone and wood paneling, with a sloping wooden shingled roof. Wide windows of glass litter the exterior walls, most of which are wide open to let the fresh summer air in. Around the foundation of the home were wide expanses of grass and flowers, impressive for such a populated area. A small stone pathway led to the front door, with oil lanterns on either side of it.

The worn wood door easily swung open, letting a small breeze slip in through the wide opening. 

Clay strolled through the long hallway stretching across the house until he got to the end, where the kitchen was. 

There was no door to the room, and he could see his mother hunched over a table in the middle of the room. He could hear her hurriedly mixing, and he could feel the flour in the air.

“Mom? I got the bread and milk you asked for. Is Drista home?” Clay set down the bag on the table. 

His mom turns around with a cloud of powder. 

“Clay! Thanks for helping out. Your sister is going to be so pleased. She’s actually out with her friends right now.” She smiles at him.

Clay smiles back. He’s glad at least his sister had friends. 

“Well, with all that time on our hands, I think we could do something great with these,” he says, holding up the bag of bread and milk. 

His mom takes it with open arms. She gingerly takes out the bread, smiling knowingly at why it was squashed. The milk she left in the bag, which now sat limply on the kitchen table, already covered in piles of flour and ingredients. 

“You’re good to go now. By the way, do you have any idea where your father is? He left a while ago without telling me.”

“Oh yeah! I forgot about it for a second but I ran into him on the way home,” he remembers, thinking about it for a second. 

“He says he was going to buy fruit from the market.”

“That man. He never tells me when he leaves! Clay, thank you for telling me, sweetie.” 

“Oh, uh, no problem? I actually really need to be buying Drista’s birthday present right now, so I gotta go soon.” Clay fumbled his words as his mom stared him down. 

“Well then? Go, Drista would be really sad if you didn’t get her a present this year, you know. She still worships you, after all.” His mother shooed him off.

Clay winced. He knew that his sister was still doing that to him. He wouldn’t want to see her disappointed face actually become a reality. 

“I’ll be right out,” he reassured, taking off quickly up rickety wooden stairs and to his room. 

The stairs creaked, the old wood boards already starting to fall apart. Quickly, he shoves his door out of the way to head towards his polished desk, his prize already sitting wrapped in cloth on his desk. 

He moves to unwrap it, checking if said item was still there. 

Inside, it was the clay rendition of a silhouette he had been seeming in his dreams. It was a palm-sized sculpture of a dragon-like figure, with large wings almost larger than the body itself poised as if it were about to blow away an enemy from in front of it, detailed to the last scale. Its mouth was wide open in a snarl, making every last tooth in its mouth and the spiked tongue visible. The talons on the ends of every limb were sharp, almost cutting through the air even as it lay still. The tail curved in midair, spikes lining the top of it and one large one directly on the end of it. 

In Clay’s years of sculpture, it was safe to say it was the most complex work he had made yet. 

And here he was, going to sell it for his sister’s birthday present. 

He tried not to think about it much, hurriedly wrapping it back up on the piece of scrap cloth and slipping it into his pocket. 

He had to. 

He slips out of his room and crosses the hall and down the stairs, ignoring the weight in his pocket as much as possible.

“I’ll be back soon, mom!” He says, waving at her from behind

“Take care of yourself sweetie!”

Clay stepped out of the house and immediately could smell the fresh air. His home always had the smell of a potter’s studio, which was inevitable, he knew, as his father made all his works at home and so did he. The fresh air was a nice break, as he had been spending hours holed up in his room perfecting the sculpture currently sitting in his breast pocket. 

The same cobblestone path awaited him, taunting him as his mind wandered due to the familiarity of the scenery. 

He could always make another one right? 

He tried to convince himself, but he knew that it was a flimsy reassurance at best. No two pieces were the exact same. Every artist knows that. 

Quietly, he trudged on, reaching the part of town where the crowds were always alive in a matter of minutes. 

Here, he could see the booth he was needing. This man would buy his pieces at absurd prices, and he would need them if he wanted to do his sister good. 

As he approached it, he could see the same village kids from earlier starting to emerge from the crowd, sadistic smiles wide on their faces. They pushed and shoved their way through the crowd, chins held high and cracking their knuckles.

He could hear them start to tail him and he could also hear the insults starting to be thrown his way, but the noise of the crowd started to drown them away before his mind did. 

Oh well. What’s to matter if they beat him up in plain view of the one shopkeeper who would actually like his work. So what? 

He ignored them, still on his beeline to the man’s booth. 

The man seemed to pick out his dirty blond hair from the crowd, smiling and waving at him as soon as he started getting in his line of sight. 

He speeds up his pace, uncaring of his mini following. 

Once in front of the booth, he can see all the new trinkets the man has acquired for resale. Things such as solid gold lockets to hand drawn maps to large expanses of rugs were pinned up on the wall, in an attempt to entice any new potential customers. Clay could even make out a few of his own sculptures sitting in the display, though he could tell it was less than he had brought over when he sold them. 

He gave a soft smile at that, taking pride in his art selling.

“So kid, whatcha’ got this time?” He said as he smiled a crooked grin. Wiry graying strands of hair droop as he tilts his head in excitement, framing his tanned and worn out face. 

“How much would this go for?” Clay reaches into his breast pocket to delicately remove the dragon and its protection cloth. 

He lays it on the booth, ignorant of the kids behind him starting to fall silent and wonder what he was holding out. 

With much delay, he removes the worn cloth covering, revealing his creation to the eager onlookers.

In an instant, the shopkeeper snatches it and holds it high in the air to see with the light. 

“My, my! I can tell this is very well-made," he marvels, turning it around in his hands with caution.

The village kids were quiet, in awe of the detailed sculpture the man was praising. 

Clay only noticed then, that his followers had gone silent, and with a worried heart, he turned around and watched them give a ‘tsk’ sound at him, leaving him behind and walking away. 

After a moment of deliberating and much silence from the man, he sets it down back on the booth and starts rummaging through his coin drawer, which he had pulled out as he set it down. 

“Would maybe fifty gold do? This is one-of-a-kind. Just the kinda’ work I expect from you, son!” He says down the coins on the table for Clay to judge. 

Clay blanks out. 

Fifty gold?

He shakes his head in disbelief.

That was much higher than the last time he had sold something to the man, which he had already thought was a high price. Why would someone really pay that much for his sculpture? 

“I think I can tell from that fishy expression you’ve got goin’ on that you like the sound of that. I’ll get a pouch for you.” He bends down and reaches under the booth for a bit. 

That knocked Clay out of his trance. This was really happening. 

With wide eyes, he takes the pouch now filled with coins from the man.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” He stammers, stars in his eyes. 

“That’ll keep ya’ happy, ain’t it? Now I’ll see ya’ off now, keep bringing these cool works to me, ya’ hear that?” He shouts and waves as Clay starts to walk away from the booth in a daze. 

Clay gives a sharp nod to say that he knew, and the man gave another one of his crooked smiles. 

Quick to pocket the money, he goes to scan for one certain booth where he saw what his sister’s present was going to be. 

As he walks around in search of it, an alleyway emerges in front of him. In his stupor, he slips into it.

Clay is snapped back into reality when he gets the sudden realization that he’s almost walked face first into the back wall of a strange alley he had never entered in all his years of living in this town. Now, this was a new all time low for distraction mistakes.

Righting himself, he observes the unfamiliar surroundings and notices something in the ground.

It was stark white in comparison to the packed dirt ground of the alleyway, seemingly lodged into the dirt. Two straps hung off it via metal clasps and those lay hanging off the original disk pushed into the ground. 

With much caution, he makes slow steps to it and squat down to try and inspect it closer.

It definitely wasn’t supposed to be there, he thinks as he started scooping the dirt around it away and depositing it by his side.

After some time, the dirt was excavated, and the object, which he could now tell was a mask, was left on the ground. 

He brushed the top of it to push stray dirt off the smooth white surface of the mask and he could feel a pulse rush through his fingers and up his arm and through his body, feeling in between a chill and an electric shock. 

With delicate hands, he turns the mask right side up.

He’s met with an ominous black smiley face and a sudden dulling of his senses.

“Hey,” a voice says.

. . .

The rush of the wind chills his face and forces his ponytail of pink hair out of his face. 

He could hear the twang of a bow string behind him, and feel the arrow embed itself in the tree beside him.

They were catching up. 

Smirking to himself, he slows down the chase, starting to enter an exposed part of the forest. 

Instinctively, the skeletons keep chase, all the way to the pink-haired man and obliviously into his trap.

The large boughs of the grand oak trees start to part, opening up to let large beams of sunlight pierce their way through the dark forest.

The man now has a dangerous snarl on his lips, showing off unnaturally sharp canines as he stands with his diamond blade out. 

The skeletons’ bodies immediately feel the effect of entering the sunlight, and the bones start to disintegrate as the light hits them. 

Techno now takes this time to strike, slashing wide in a large arch and slicing a good chunk of the mob following him in half. 

Their remains drop to the ground, most disintegrating into even finer dust than what the sun did to them, and quickly mixing with the dirt. Few bones remained and Techno had his eye on them. 

The rest of the crowd loaded another arrow into their bones, the time it took to draw them back being their fatal mistake. 

Techno chooses to strike then, twirling his sword in his hand for a second and then using it as a throwing knife, cleaning up the rest of the skeletons. 

The sword embedded itself in the bark of another tree, slicing deep into it. 

The last of the skeletons start to fall to their knees, leaving few remains behind like their brethren before. 

Techno saunters over, grabbing the elaborate hilt of his sword and giving it a good yank, freeing it from the tree.

He eyes the fruit of his labor, examining the remaining pieces of what was once a menacing mob of skeletons.

Sheathing his sword, he goes to his belt and pulls out a fresh cloth pouch, along with a neatly folded up flyer. 

He scoops the bones up and brushes the dirt off them from their sudden landing, a flat expression on his face as he does so. 

Quick to put the bones away in the pouch, he ties it up with loose string he had on him and clenches it in his offhand, along with the flyer. 

Turning around, he gets ready for the walk back, walking with much more carelessness. The journey back was much less arduous, and the lack of substantial adversaries made it equally less entertaining.

Technoblade walks on, stepping recklessly across tree roots strewn across the dirt floor, in between large piles of fresh leaves, and around dry bushes dotting the paths. He ducks under low hanging tree branches and pulls blocking vines away from the path, walking unhindered for the rest of the walk.

Seeing the thick trees start to part, he lets out a breath he didn’t know he had. 

He could make out the edges of a village stretching far out from the horizon. Large grassy hills enclose the village, the outskirts of a forest edging up onto the hills. Tiled red roofs and dark wooden poles juxtaposed with the rest of the bland village, clear even from Techno’s position. 

Techno adjusts the crown on his head. He moves his ponytail back and he fixes his long red cape. 

Moving from the general forest path and to one of the paved village walkways, he schools his expression into one of a disappointed monotone.

He knows he’s actually approaching the village now.

Eventually, the road starts to merge with several others in various twists and turns, and Techno could finally see another person in his peripheral vision.

Seeing houses starting to pop up, he consults the flyer again for directions. 

That way. 

...

Is he lost? No, no way, Techno tells himself as he circles the same block again, for the fifth time.

The fountain in the center of the block taunts him every time he circles around, threatening his cool composure.

He doesn’t know where he's making the wrong turn, according to the flyer it should be only a couple streets away. And yet here he was, at the fountain again for the fifth time.

He’s aware of one lone street musician sitting by the fountain giving him a wary side eye. He knows he sticks out like a sore thumb, with long pink hair, a golden crown, and flowing red cape, there’s no blending in. 

It still doesn’t make it less infuriating.

The musician, whose obnoxious yellow sweater and dark beanie in tandem with his curly-brown hair makes his nose seem rather punchable to his rather…off judgement. Techno itches to smash that polished guitar over the musician’s head if he just wouldn’t stop looking. 

Looking back at the sun, he starts to see that it’s already past noon. He should have been on the road by now if he wanted to be able to find a new town before the coming storm. 

In his rage, he pulls out the wrinkled flyer again, roughly smoothing it out and almost ripping it in the process. 

Oh. 

Oh.

He almost stamps his feet in his anger. 

It was the other way. It had to be. 

In a flourish, he turns around, cape billowing in the wind. 

Was he lost? Not any longer. 

…

The apothecary woman stared with wide eyes and an even wider open mouth as Techno harshly dropped the pouch on her counter. 

The string had gone loose, opening the top of the bag and revealing its costly contents. 

In a flash, he waves the flyer, torn off from the quest board down the road, in her face. 

“Your payment?”

She snaps into attention and immediately remembers her reward. 

Quickly, she snatched the bag up and rummaged deep in the counter’s vast amounts of drawers.

With much hesitation, she produces several large golden coins, which she pushes over the table and towards Techno.

He stands still for a moment before using his index finger and collecting the coins one by one, counting them as he takes them. 

Smiling to himself, he pockets the coins and makes eye contact with the woman. 

He gives a small nod and flicks his cape as he turns, quite dramatic, he knows, but he could see the woman’s amazed face in the apothecary’s windows and he’s pleased at that. 

Making his way back to the forest path, he passes the fountain again.

The musician is still there, still strumming unwavering fingers at his guitar strings.

The jacket which he had laid on the ground seemed to have more coins than he had seen in front of him last time, and Techno suppressed the urge to ‘tsk’ at that.

The musician looks up, a cocky smirk on his face.

“You finally found your way, huh? Took you long enough.” The musician pauses his song.

Techno physically snarls at that, and relishes in the momentary fear in the other man’s eyes. 

“I’ll take it that you missed my company, what, you’re so lonely you’ve formed an attachment to a wanderer you’ve only known for an hour?” Techno deadpans, calm expression now back on his face.

The musician paused, looking down at Techno’s hands.

The way that they were clenched gave away his anger, and instinctively the musician smirked at his success. 

The two kept tense eye contact, waiting to see who would waver first. 

Eventually Techno looks away. 

Reaching a hand into his gold pouch, he takes out a single coin and tosses it at the musician, who watches it land in his sizable gold pile with eager satisfaction.

By the time he looked back up, Techno was gone.

. . .

A spark of fire began to drift in the air, momentarily illuminating the dark forest. 

Sapnap looks with sadistic eyes at the spark, watching it go higher and higher before slowly dissipating. 

Grasping the uneven piece of flint he had picked up from the forest floor and the small piece of scrap iron he had taken from a zombie, he prepared to strike them against each other again.

“Sapnap! It’s already dry enough here that it’s about to burst in flames already. Don’t speed it up.” George turns around to snap at him. 

“Chill, man! I know what I’m doing. Besides, I can stop any fire that starts with my fire powers, you know.” 

George’s brow tightened, his frown deepening. The hazy goggles he had on prevented Sapnap from seeing his eyes, but he was sure they were seething with rage.

They stay in a pseudo staring contest for another moment, the tension sparking like Sapnap’s newly acquired flint and steel. 

George looks away, giving a small ‘tsk’ sound as he goes.

“We still have a bit to walk. Let’s go.”

George continues the trek on the hill, momentarily leaving Sapnap behind as he pockets his find.

In a slight run, Sapnap catches up with George and walks in silence, footsteps in tandem with each other. 

Tree after tree, bush after bush, boulder after boulder they past, seemingly not anywhere near their destination.

Following the gravel path, they continue up the winding trail up the hill.

Pushing vines out of their eyes, they start to see the evening sunlight start to peak through the leaves.

Speeding up their ascent, they approach the light with eager faces.

Trees start to part, letting in more light.

The path widens, revealing a clearing overlooking the edge of the hill.

Short grass spread across the clearing, only a small amount of trees keeping the clearing hidden from view from below the mountain.

George and Sapnap approach the edge, caution in their steps. 

Below the sinking sun, slowly dipping into the horizon, was a village draping the smooth land. Several sloped roofs were clear even from their location, wood shingles apparent even from that distance. Cobblestone lanterns dotted the horizon, slowly getting lit as the sun sank lower and lower. 

Sapnap looks in awe at the view, nudging George roughly and pointing wildly.

George has a small smile plastered on his face. Seeing the sunset every time is just as good as the first to him. 

This stop was going to be good.


	2. Inopportune Starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly late, but it’s barely after the 3rd. With all the things happening in the USA I didn’t have that much time to write hhh

Being knocked backwards, Clay could feel the puddle water seep into his pants as he crashed into the dirt ground, leftover from the previous night’s storm.

Seeing the mask on the floor now let him see the details clearer, and was that a spot of dried blood on it? 

Now this was even creepier.

Clay’s mind ran faster than the horses travelers would ride into his village, all dead set on why he would have heard that voice. 

He looks around, quick in all directions.

Nothing.

Could it have been some kid’s power?

Would they really go that far to bury a bloodied mask in an alley for that? A simple joke?

It didn’t seem like something they would have done just for kicks and giggles.

Pushing those thoughts away momentarily, he goes back to the actual event. 

He felt like every nerve ending he had was suddenly cut off from the world, every scent wafting away, every sound tuning out, and every sight blurring. All apart from the mask. 

The smiling face taunts him, as it were daring him to come closer.

…

Should he? 

Against all better judgement he held, he reached out a careful hand, brushing the top of the smooth porcelain-like material the mask was made of.

Coldness.

Nothing.

Did he just imagine that voice then? 

His thoughts merging, Clay continues to feel the front of the mask, not a single scratch or crack to be found even after that fall it took alongside him. 

He freezes as he touches the blood.

Who’s blood was it?

Where did it come from?

Thoughts like these electrify his mind.

Many possibilities sprung up, many unsettling to him as he’s sitting alone in the alleyway still.

Would it be a murderer’s mask? 

A butcher’s?

He shakes his head.

He wasn’t going to have these thoughts.

Rubbing harshly, he gets the blood off, leaving not a single stain on the unnaturally white mask.

No voice yet.

Using his other hand to prop himself up and into a standing position, he takes the mask up with him and brings it close.

Thick leather straps attached themselves to the mask through polished metal connectors. At the end of each strap, there was a half of a metal clasp, seemingly used to keep the mask on the wearer’s face. Not a single eyehole was in sight, even after extensive observation.

Strange.

And why would something like this be in an alleyway?

The mask’s eyes and smile plagued him the most. It stared at him in such a life-like manner for just simple dots and a curved line and it freaked him out.

The mask was still as confusing as before.

A sudden shift in the clouds sends light directly at him, abruptly lighting up the dark alley.

He looks up at where it came from.

Oh.

Oh.

The time. He was going to be late! 

Swiftly, he pockets the mask, ready to think about it another time. 

He wasn’t going to be late for his sister’s birthday. He didn’t even have the gift yet!

. . .

“Bad!”

Badboyhalo hears a voice call for him in the crowd.

He looks around and immediately regrets it when he gets hit with a harsh spike of pain in his head. 

It was the graduation season again, and the town quest board was crowded. 

Quests are made available for the first time as soon as you graduate. Guilds and adventure was a path that opened up as soon as you left the school building.

It was always the excited and impressionable fresh graduates who wanted that life. 

“Bad!” He hears the voice call again, this time closer.

Looking around and above the crowd, Bad could see a graduate calling out for him.

It was Skeppy, his childhood friend. Bad could see his dark brown messy hair stand out in the sea of perfectly combed up-dos or well parted fresh cuts.  
He was both jumping up and down and waving, making him hard to miss.

Reluctantly, he makes his way through the waves of people and meets Skeppy midway.

“Skeppy! Congratulations on finishing school,” Bad says in an attempt to be cordial. 

“Yeah, yeah, enough of that,” Skeppy interrupts, annoyance clear in his tone.

“Look, look!” Skeppy points at the crowd.

“Yeah, people, is that what you wanted to show me?” Bad lets out a sigh, used to not understanding what Skeppy tries to show him on the first try. His headache was throbbing now that he was in the middle of such a large crowd, already making him less aware of the world around him.

Skeppy points again, more furiously this time, mouthing words. His actual phrasing gets drowned out by the symphony of voices surrounding him, and he gets the hint that Bad didn’t hear him when Bad didn’t show a response.

Yanking Bar’s arm, Skeppy dragged him through the crowd. 

“Look here. The quest board is finally open for me. I can finally become the adventurer kid me always dreamed of!” He says with audible excitement even in the midst of the chaos around them.

They push to the front of the crowd, past fellow excited graduates and several veteran questers rushing to contain this year’s crop of new recruits before they actually tore the board down. 

“I’ll be able to be the best quester my parents expected to follow in their footsteps!” 

Bad shakes his head. This headache was getting worse.

“That’s great for you! Didn’t questers need a guild before they could start adventuring, though?” Bad pauses for a second.

“Wait a sec! Don’t tell me. Did a guild accept your request to join? Which one, the—“ 

Bad gets cut off by Skeppy’s almost bashful expression.

“Well, the thing is,” Skeppy twiddled his fingers in nervousness.

“I didn’t get accepted to any of those. But who cares if I ever did. I would’ve always wanted to travel the world with you rather than even the number one guild in the whole of Testrarrea!” 

Bad blinks. 

“So that’s the thing. Would you like to come join me in a guild and explore the world? Become the best quester duo the world has ever seen?”

What.

Bad blanks out. 

He knew Skeppy was determined to be an adventurer. Everyone in the village knew from day one. 

He didn’t actually expect him to ask him to join him.

He had graduated the year before Skeppy did, and he didn’t feel the want to leave his calm life for the one of danger and excitement that the adventurer’s one provided then. He didn’t want to do it. 

Does he? 

There was always that restlessness that plagued him as he tried job from job, all of them not being his strong suit.

But would he want to be out in the world? Would he want that life of risk and reward? 

Maybe. 

At least not alone. 

But was he the type to be on the road? What benefit would an empath have along the way? 

Speaking of being an empath,

“Skeppy.” He starts.

“Look, I’m having a bit of a headache right now, would you mind if we continued this where there’s less people?”

Skeppy nods in understanding. He was always aware of his friend’s toll of being an empath, how normal human emotion in large quantities can have a lasting effect. 

He takes his hand again, lighter than he was clenching it while he was giving his proposition.

Dragging Bad out of the crowd the same way he did getting him in it, he makes their way out, this time easier as less people wanted to go the same way as them and thus less barriers in their immediate path.

Leading Bad into an out of the way garden, he slowly loosens his grip the farther ways he got from the crowd of people.

Bad looks much better this way, with the crease in his brow unfurling and sweat on his forehead slowly dripping away. 

They both flop down on the grass like they did years ago as children, hands still entwined. 

Bad looks down, processing thought for a moment. 

Skeppy waits in silence, his nerves growing with each passing moment. 

By the time Bad turns back around, Skeppy’s face is in a cold sweat, his palm sweat merging with the morning dew of the grass.

Bad gives a knowing smile.

“You know I wouldn’t say no to my best friend, Skeppy.”

Skeppy’s eyes immediately light up, turning his nervous smirk into a wide grin.

“I never thought I was the type to adventure, you know? But since I’ve graduated I’ve only been bouncing from profession to profession,” Bad pauses to think.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for life at home either? I’ve never had much skill here either. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be an improvement.” 

Skeppy watches him, literally buzzing with excitement.

“Maybe I’ll just like it with you.”

. . .

Wilbur Soot doesn’t know what’s up with that man. 

That strange, strange wanderer dressed like he’s the king of the world. 

That strange man who seems like he could become the king of the world.

So what if he’s intrigued?

So what if he’s packing up his stuff and following the general direction where the enigma went? He was going to leave soon already, so why not now? 

Wilbur wants to see his face again.

He wants to see those piercing red eyes. Eyes that almost look past him.

He wants to observe those unnaturally sharp canines. Teeth that bear fear to even his already fearless self.

He wants to see that long pink hair again, a mystery as to why it’s like that.

He wants to know.

So he follows the road.

Following the lines which connect and divide the land. 

Following him.

Wilbur bites back a whimper of fear as he nears the forest trails. He knows he’s under equipped for this journey. Despite all that, he ventures into the forest, for the first time in months. 

He’s going to find out more about him, no matter the cost. 

…

The leaves were definitely in his hair.

Ignoring the spikes of fear every time he heard a twig snap or a leaf crunch, he continues on with his trek.

Wilbur muses to himself. This has gone a lot better than how it went the last time he did this. 

He wasn’t sure how much longer it was going to last, however. 

Making a sharp turn around a tree, he makes a quick look around and there it was—a glimpse of bright pink in the midst of the earthen world around them.

There he was. His enigma. 

Ducking behind the tree he turned by, he starts to form a plan.

In all honesty, he hadn’t planned this far ahead. He never had expected to even catch up with him. Originally he would have went with the classic ‘follow a man home and demanding answers at their front door’ approach but after watching the man’s careless decisions in navigation it was safe to say that he was what he had called himself. 

A wanderer.

Did he even have a home? Wilbur ponders, before immediately shelving that thought.

It was turning dark, and he was fatally unprepared for a night alone. If only…

If only…

That’s it.

Wilbur smiles to himself a pleased smile.

He could ask to stay with him. For protection he’d say, all puppy-eyed and scared. For his curiosity, in reality. 

Oh, this was a brilliant plan. 

Wilbur peaks out from behind the tree still, watching the man. The stranger hadn’t moved much out of his line of sight, continuing in a straight line from where he had last been seen. 

If all things lined up correctly…

There! 

A wild bird flew overhead.

While it wasn’t a songbird, Wilbur could make do with it.

Quickly twirling his fingers in the air, he brought the bird toward him, letting it sit on his shoulder.

Getting out a quick quill and ink he had on him, he uses scrap parchment he had nicked from the merchant’s place from when he had originally arrived at his previous town to start composing a proposal.

He gets to writing.

Taking a few breaks to think about his word choice, he finally finishes the letter, signing it off with a flourish. 

Tying it with string to the bird, he signals it to fly ahead with his index and middle finger, pointing directly at the stranger, who now has gone even farther away from him. 

Letting the bird fly in first, he follows the two, ducking and weaving in and out of the trees, trying his best to stay out of sight. 

When he was a reasonable distance away that he could see the man well enough, he pauses and lets the bird, who had been circling the man from above in wait of a new command, settle on the stranger’s shoulder. 

He pauses, and Wilbur could practically see his hair stand on end in alarm even for his distance away.

Untying the string, the stranger unrolls the letter Wilbur had neatly placed upon the bird. 

He brings it up close to read, and Wilbur takes this time to let the bird fly back to him. The two lie in wait. 

. . .

Sapnap kept looking to the horizon as he was attempting to set up his makeshift tent atop a hill.

The sheer sight of the village from up above amazed him, and he would not not take any opportunity to sneak a quick glance at it.

Hearing George’s apprehensive snaps of his fingers, Sapnap immediately is brought back to attention. 

Right. 

Shelter. 

Quickly tying off the string he was using to attach the actual tent to the poles he has erect in the ground, he roughly drops onto his bottom and simply just sits.

Waiting.

George almost seems to soften at this, pausing for a quick second in his work setting up his tent to stare at Sapnap. 

Getting back to work, George decides to just let Sapnap take a break. It had already been a long day. 

Dropping his items in his now completed tent, George starts rolling a fallen log to their campsite. 

Positioning the log parallel to the edge, George sits on the bench edge facing the sunset and sighs. 

He watched the world start to be bathed in large beams of saturated light, watching as the variety colors of the world around started to fade away. 

Even with his limited color vision, he could tell the magnificence of that night’s sunset. 

George doesn’t notice Sapnap standing up and moving to sit next to him until Sapnap puts a warm hand on his shoulder and he jumps, in both alarm and instinct. 

“Woah, woah, woah, man! Chill, it’s just me! You scream loud enough for even the town down here to hear you!” Sapnap chuckles, slightly rubbing his ears as he talked, probably from getting screamed at in the ear by a scared George.

“Chill? Who’s the one who practically jumpscared me?” George snaps, almost immediately regretful of the break he had given Sapnap. 

Sapnap, as usual, takes that as a compliment, that darned man taking everything as a joke. 

George, however used to it he might be, still seethed with anger at that part of the pyromaniac.

After a few more seconds of silence and aggressive staring, George finally turns away.

“Can you at least make yourself useful right now and start a campfire for the gods’ sake?” George restrains himself from yelling again, his voice already tired enough.

“Alright, gotchu, man,” Sapnap replies with a cocky grin, snapping his fingers and lighting up the area with the fire he had just created. 

George has to move back in order to keep his cloak from getting swept up in the wave of flame Sapnap had made for them, sitting behind them being a fire almost far too large to be considered a campfire anymore.

Letting out a ‘tsk’ at the size of the fire, George turns around to bask in its heat.

He could watch Sapnap doing the same thing, Sapnap’s dark eyes reflecting both the brightness of the flame on the ground and the sadistic pleasure in his eyes. 

Watching the fire light up the forest as the sun started to sink deep under the horizon, George observed the shadows as Sapnap began to set up their makeshift furnace on the campfire.

With a dagger in hand, he points it warily at the trees. 

Looking for any shiny eyes peaking out from within the gloom, George patrols the campsite, trained eyes constantly on alert.

Seeing a flash of light out of the corner of his eye, he instinctively turns around in a flash, stepping backwards to create a large jut of ice from thin air. 

Instead of a monster like he expected, it was the charred bark of a recently burnt tree. 

Right next to it was a sheepish Sapnap, flint and steel in hand and positioned to strike again.

George blows up.

“Sapnap!”

“Why! This is the second time today! What’s with your obsession with setting things on fire?” He barks at him, rage apparently in his tone and dagger pointed at Sapnap’s nose, slowly inching closer as he rants. 

“Listen here. You already are wanted in several towns. Do you want to be wanted in the next, too, for burning down their mountain?” George’s blade is only a finger length from cutting into Sapnap’s nose, and Sapnap could almost feel the murderous intent contained in George’s expression. 

“This is our only chance. Our only chance to make up for what we did in the last town. To restore our reputation. Do you not want that? To not have to be ashamed of being on this journey? To be able to walk free of judgement?” 

Sapnap could sense the desperation in his voice, the tears that threatened to fall from George’s eyes, despite the large, clunky goggles covering them. 

Sapnap could feel his eyes widen, blood draining from his face. 

He knew what George was referring to. 

He always had wanted to repent for it.

He’s not sure if he ever can at this point.

George watches with cold eyes, both literally as the tears falling in waves from his eyes start to freeze as they touch his cold skin.

He shakes. 

They both stand in silence.

Slowly, George lowers the dagger.

Sapnap still stands still like a statue. His skin was pale enough that he could have been mistaken for one.

“Look.” George starts, turning his head away from Sapnap and facing the village, now slowly darkening as night fell. Light from the windows slowly flickered off, the night starting to grow late. 

“I only mean the best for us. I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I was a bit harsh.” 

Sapnap nods his head, the slight movement returning color to his cheeks. 

Pocketing the dagger, George approaches Sapnap, holding out his hand. 

Sapnap takes it, shaking as he was dragged back to the bench by George.

Seeing the last couple of lights go out, Sapnap calms down.

Looking back to the campfire, he could see that the pork he had set out early was almost fully cooked, some spots charred. 

He picks up the pork with his bare hands, fire dancing across his palm leaving nothing but slight warmth. 

“While we watch the stars?”

George smiles, taking the greasy pork chop.

. . .

Clay stands in the dark, staring at the mask he set on his bed.

That darned mask. 

He holds out a single candle, illuminating the small space. Night light from the open window lit up his desk and nothing more. 

Despite the low lighting, he could still make out the vague shape of the smiling face, taunting him still.

After he had pocketed the mask in the alleyway, he had gone to make a quick stop to exchange his gold he had gotten from selling his sculpture for an enchanted green scarf he had seen a trader have for sale. It was a fair amount more than what he had, but he had managed a good bargain. 

The birthday had gone well, going well into the night and with lots of food and friends over. 

It seemed like the time of Drista’s life.

Clay didn’t want to think of the troubling mask sitting in his pant pocket during the festivities.

The weight in his pocket was unwavering though, a constant in the back of his mind.

The mask’s smile bore into his eyes, leaving a feeling of imminent danger.

Getting startled by a particularly loud snore from the other room, Clay sits up ramrod straight. 

Swallowing, he reaches for the mask.

It’s now or never.

Setting his candle on his desk, he reaches for the mask. 

Turning the mask over, he held the mask by the front, using one hand to hold it securely on his face. 

Closing his eyes and reaching in blind, he uses one hand to fasten the metal clasps at the ends of each leather strap, the cool metal adding to his shaky hands.

Checking that it was secure, Clay drops his hands and takes a deep breath.

He opened his eyes with much hesitation.

It was as if he had nothing on.

Looking around his room, he observed the low hanging ceilings, the sculptures on his desk, the wooden dressers and bed, and the candlelit window.

He reaches up to his eyes, feeling nothing but porcelain.

He gives a shaky laugh.

Standing up to walk around his room, he laughs at himself for being so worried the whole day.

He’s about to pick up one of his sculptures when a searing pain shoots up his head.

Dropping the figure roughly on the floor, he freezes as the pain continues to travel across his limbs.

As it left each offshoot, a lingering numbness followed it. 

As the pain slowly exits the tips of his bare feet, he tries to move before realizing he can’t feel any part of his body. 

Looking down, he notices his fingers twitch.

He panics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! My beta was able to read a portion of it before they got busy again so bear with me


	3. Rough Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost late! But I made it! Also, I’m not sure if my italics worked so I’m so sorry I’ll figure it out eventually if it’s not there

Feeling something landing on his shoulder, Technoblade almost jumps in surprise, only the rustling of the leaves behind him stopping him from doing so. 

Act calm.

Collected.

He turns around, only to be met with a large bird sitting on his shoulder, a scroll tied around its talon.

That…

Was unexpected.

Masking his surprise, extends out his shoulder to make taking the scroll off the bird easier. 

As he reached for the paper with his other hand the bird lifted its leg, letting Techno untie the fancy knot keeping the scroll attached. 

Once free of the load, the bird watches him unroll the paper and flies away at the sound of it.

Squinting his eyes at both the low lighting and the fancy cursive the letter was printed in, he gives up and holds it close to his face to see clearer.

“To the stranger with the pink hair and weird cape,” he starts to read out loud, confusion evident in his tone.

“Well that isn’t very nice to just call me a stranger.” He says, offhandedly.

“I suppose you would remember me, that one street musician you’ve taken a liking to,”

Techno doesn’t even have to think to recall that guy.

“A liking, huh? Let’s watch him as I punch a hole through that guitar.”

There’s a rustling in the leaves, then a shadow darts forth. Noticing his follower, Techno stops with his comments.

“My name is Wilbur Soot. I would like to ask you for a proposal. One of protection and information.” He pauses at this.

Hmm…

Seems interesting enough.

“I’d like to ask for you to allow me to accompany you on your journey, and as long as you provide the protection I seek, I can give you the directions and the legends any quester would desire.” He almost laughs at this. 

Him?

Treasure?

It’s almost ridiculous. He continues on reading, however.

“I’d like to ask you to consider this proposition carefully; I can provide payment upon a later date if desired, and I would be—“

Techno strikes. 

He heaves his axe seemingly from nowhere, wasting no second to put it between the bark of a tree and his follower’s traveling cloak.

His pursuer chuckles nervously at the sharp blade inches away from his face. 

“And your deal is?” Techno says, a careful expression on his face and low tone in his voice.

He recognizes it as the musician from earlier, and probably also the person who sent him this letter.

Wilbur wastes no time.

“I’d like to propose a deal with you, um?” He starts, pausing near the end, asking for his name with a probing look.

“It’s Technoblade.” 

“Yes, with you, Technoblade! My dear sir, I would like to ask a favor of you.” 

Techno could hear his smooth voice, and yet he could see the sweat starting to bead on his brow. He knew he was nervous.

Techno nods, letting him continue.

“Well, you see, in exchange for letting me stay with you,” 

Techno interrupts.

“I’ve seen the letter. Cut to the chase.”

Wilbur freezes for a moment.

“The thing is, well, I don’t think I’m fit enough to stay in this wilderness on my own, which is why I would like your help.” Wilbur proposes, almost stumbling over his words. 

“See, you could provide the offense and the defense we would need! From my travels alone I have a treasure trove of information. Right. Here.”

He points at his forehead, careful to avoid being cut by the blade ever present by his neck. 

Techno takes time to consider this information.

On one hand, there’s to continue traveling alone, by himself, the way it’s always been. 

On the other, it's to have a companion for once. Even if Wilbur is completely lying about the treasure (not like he wants it in the first place) it wouldn’t hurt to have someone to care for again. 

Hand on the axe’s handle as he thinks, he’s torn between digging it deeper into the wood of the tree and tearing it out. 

Wilbur looks on expectantly, fear reflected in his eyes. 

Techno’s eyes narrow.

He gives a quick smirk, causing Wilbur to instinctively flinch, bracing for an impact.

However, instead of the axe slicing cleanly through his neck and ending his life right then and there, Techno does something unexpected.

Giving one clean tug, Technoblade loosens the axe, and with one more pull, he sets it free of its wooden imprisonment.

With a quick maneuver, he slides his axe back into its holder behind him. A quick tug let him know it was secure.

After a moment, Wilbur’s still braced, even after the axe was removed.

After not feeling any pain for a good few moments, Wilbur tentatively peeks open his eyes.

Seeing no axe pointed directly at his face, Wilbur softens, falling straight to the ground in relief.

Laughing in his sheer happiness, he stays on the ground, grasping his coattails with much force.

Looking up, he sees Techno holding out a single hand.

Pausing his laughter, he takes it, gripping firmly and pulling up.

Once up on his feet, he gathers his fallen items, mostly consisting of his bare-bones survival items and his guitar left laying in the ground behind a tree a distance back.

Keeping his items close, he turns to ask Techno a question.

“Well, now? Where to?”

. . .

His arm starts to rise.

Trying to keep his panic to a minimum, Clay tries to stop it with his other hand.

Nothing.

He tries moving his legs.

Nothing. 

Inside his head, his fear had broken the already weak barriers he had keeping it controlled. 

Oh gods, oh gods, what do I do, what do I do, played in an infinite loop in his head.

He would feel his mouth turn up at the corners—no, no, no, not him, not his face—and he wants to scream.

He could feel his feet start to move, more fluid than they have ever in his whole life. 

What was happening? 

His body starts to move, his fear starting to skyrocket.

Clay knew he was turning his head, and yet it wasn’t him doing it, and yet somehow it was and he was already feeling the regret set in.

Was it the mask? 

It had to be the mask, why did he even put that thing on in the first place? Why did he trust that damn thing, he already could see the blood on it, what if—

Seeing the open window, then suddenly feeling his body jerk snaps Clay back to the present. 

That’s right.

He still didn’t have control of what his body did.

Already knowing that whoever was using his body was going to jump out the window, Clay starts to strategize.

He braces himself before he tries something new.

Right as he was on his desk and about to leap, he acted.

Now!

Pushing all his energy into one hand, he forces whatever force that was taking control of his body out of it and momentarily resumes control.

As they were about to fall, he grips on the window ledge, and grips on tight.

Getting a second of shock from his possessor, he manages to delay his fall.

Immediately being forced back out of control of his hand, they let go of the ledge and quickly descend into freefall.

Clay braces himself, or at least the best he could when he’s not in full control of his body, preparing for impact.

He’s almost ready to say his goodbyes when all of a sudden he feels his power being used and a spike of mud is abruptly lifted in the air and used as a landing pad, catching him and lowering him onto the ground. 

Thanking every god he knew, Clay almost cries in relief. He didn’t want this to be the last time he sees his mom, dad, Drista—anyone.

“Huh,” he hears his own voice say out loud, despite his loud thoughts.

“I’ve never had a person be able to do that while I’m using their body before.”

Who was this person? Clay thinks in a panic, who could have used his body to do that stunt and who else could have had the ability to do that to anyone else?

“You know, I’ve never had a person be able to do that either, before.”

What? 

“I’m talking about you, you know? I’ve never had a person be able to talk back to me before when I use their body, not even once.” 

What is going on? Who is this? Why are you doing this—

“Slow down with the questions! I can’t answer them so quickly, either! I’m new to this too!” He seems to answer himself, sighing in exasperation.

Well then, can I at least start with your name? 

“I’m Dream. I’m the mask that you put on, I think you can tell.” Dream pauses for a second.

“What about you? I’d like to know a bit more about the body I’ve just taken over.”

Me? You want to know about me? 

“Yes, you! Who else would I be talking to?”

Well, I’m Clay. I thought you’d know why I’m here.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I’m afraid not. As I said, I’m just as new to this as you are.” Dream looks around, scanning the area.

Noticing the forest stretching far behind Clay’s home, Dream almost jumps in anticipation.

“Say, would you’d like me to show you what I can do?” 

What? Wait what? I guess so—

Flexing his hands, Dream creates a few more pillars of dirt and mud as a test. Twisting and twirling his fingers, he manipulates the shapes of the pillars.

Smirking finally, he pulls the dirt back to its original place.

“Say, would you let me enjoy myself again, for the first time in a while?”

Not waiting for an answer, Dream leaps into the air, much farther than Clay has ever had in his life, Clay not even knowing he could even go that high.

Flipping in midair, Dream lands on a high tree branch as he falls back down to the ground, bracing for another leap.

Clay wants to scream in fear.

. . .

Tommy’s legs were about to fall off.

Jumping over a stray tree root, he moves to the side in an attempt to throw them off his trail. 

Stumbling behind him, Tubbo tries to catch up.

The smaller boy reaches out for Tommy, trying to take his extended hand. Tommy notices, wrapping his sweaty hand with Tubbo’s.

“Quick! Hurry up, hurry, they’re going to catch up soon!” Tommy says, panting.

Tubbo’s distressed eyes said more than his nods and put another burst of energy into his legs, dropping some of his lookouts but catching up to Tommy.

Tommy lets himself give a nervous smile, showing off his teeth. 

They got this.

Running along the unpaved path, the two boys duck under tree branch over tree branch, make sharp turn upon sharp turn, and leap over bush over bush. 

Speeding up and starting to hear less and less pursuit, they start to get cocky.

Starting to get careless with their movements, Tommy and Tubbo start to get daring.

Jumping over one particularly tall boulder, Tommy lifts high into the air, reaching a lower hanging tree branch and swinging off it. 

Landing with Grace, Tommy looks challengingly at Tubbo with a proud grin on his face.

Taking the hint, Tubbo aims for a particularly misshapen tree root, holding out for a drooping tree branch to swing down.

Preparing to jump and spin midair, Tubbo braces his legs. 

As it falls through the air, Tubbo leaps to grasp it with inexperienced fingers, slipping off the branch and quick into open air.

Tommy takes this moment to turn around, watching with what was first amusement, which quickly morphed into one of sheer terror.

Landing one misplaced foot on the ground, Tubbo goes from mid turn to amidst the forest floor.

“Tubbo!” 

With a loud crash, Tubbo skids across the rocky ground, bringing up leaves and gravel as he travels and tearing his fresh green cloak.

Tommy immediately turns mid-step, spinning on his heel to fall into a leap in an attempt to catch the falling boy.

Sliding back, he misses Tubbo as he falls, and watching him skid, he’s unable to stop his movement.

Time slows for Tommy.

As soon as he’s able to stumble his way back, he could see the blood already pooling beneath the fallen boy.

Hurried, he goes to shake Tubbo, troubled mumbling leaving his mouth as he jerks Tubbo back and forth.

“Tubbo! Tubbo, Tubbo, c’mon, c’mon,” Tommy says, tears bubbling in his eyes.

His voice starts to crack, slowly trailing into panic as he continues to shake Tubbo.

Knowing a fall at that height wasn’t lethal, Tommy continues with his attempt to get Tubbo up.

“Be alright, Tubbo,” he says, flipping him over to inspect the damage.

Most of it seemed to come from his shoulder and his face, several large gashes oozing blood, soaking his sweaty brown hair and through the new tear on his cloak. And fast.

The scent of iron was filling the air, Tommy noticed, even with the snot filling his nostrils.

He could hear their pursuers start to catch up. 

At this rate, Tommy realizes Tubbo could bleed out if they stay in this forest, if not caught and sent back to that horrible place.

His fear is reignited in a large flame.

“Tubbo!” He says in a final last-ditch attempt, tears pouring from his eyes.

Tubbo groans, twitching once on his own and slowly blinking his eyes open.

“Tubbo! You had me worried there for a second, you blacked out and—“

Tubbo starts to sit up, propping himself up on his uninjured arm.

“Where are the guys? Are they far behind?” Tubbo says, priority in his tone and concern in his eyes.

“What?” Tommy looks like he’s caught off guard at this.

Quickly processing his words, he’s fast to respond. 

“Oh, well they’re starting to catch up and—“

“Well? What are we waiting for?” Tubbo looks expectant, holding out his arm for Tommy.

Tommy looks at it for a second before snatching it up, fast. 

He pulls Tubbo up on unsteady feet, and after a second of balancing him and lending him a scarf to act as a makeshift bandage, he turns to behind them.

They could vaguely make out the shapes of approaching figures behind them, and Tommy smirks at the shadows.

Holding out a bloodied palm, he grasps the air in front of a tree behind them. Closing his fist, Tommy pulls his arm back towards him, tugging hard.

The tree toppled, sending a large quake across the ground. 

Tubbo almost falls over, grasping onto another tree for support. 

Tommy turns back to face Tubbo, sweat present on his face, but proud nevertheless. 

“Well, then? Shall we, Tubbo?”

Tubbo laughs, letting go of the trees start and grasping his wounded shoulder. 

“Let’s go, Tommy.”

Tommy takes off, Tubbo following close behind. 

Turning to make eye contact with his friend, he knocks down another tree and continues the path.

. . .

Finishing up polishing his blades for his night, George sets down his grit, putting it back in his bag.

Looking up towards the moon, he could see that it was starting to get late.

Great. 

They needed time to complete their current quest, and little sleep would definitely slow them down.

Biting back a curse, he turns to watch Sapnap, watching him count their arrows.

George could hear the numbers being utters under Sapnap’s breath, constantly restarting his count whenever he misplaced a few.

After watching him restart a few times, George starts to get frustrated.

Walking towards him, he picks up the arrows and shoves Sapnap off his perch, a convenient boulder by his tent.

“Look. Let me do it.” Picking up the arrows, George starts moving them into individual piles of five.

Sapnap watches overhead, sheepish.

George notices his observer, quick to snap at him.

“What are you doing just watching? We only have a few hours of moonlight left. Get to work.” George drags a few piles of arrows together.

Rubbing his head, Sapnap was about to say something when George cut him off.

“Do something! I dunno, there’s iron to be smelted? Oh! I know. We’re starting to run low on food, I saw some pigs by the river down there, you can go get those for us.”

Sapnap’s eyes lit up. 

“So,”

George knows where this is going.

“Can I set them on fire, then?”

Pausing his work and letting out a quick sigh, George relents.

“Yes, Sapnap. Yes, you can set them on fire.”

Sapnap’s immediately off.

“I’ll be back!”

Calling after him, George reminds him of something.

“Don’t char them to bits like the last time! You hear me? Sapnap?” 

Knowing he was ignored, George readies himself to be tasting smoke for the next week. 

He knew from experience that Sapnap heeds no warnings when it comes to fire, why should he listen to this one? 

Resuming his counting, George starts to finish up that too, piling up the rest of all the arrows and spilling them into two equally.

Putting them back into worn quivers, he sets them down by their tents. 

Watching the smoke from their campfire slowly drift higher and higher in the air, George figures it’s time to put it out.

With a quick flick of the wrist, a large spike of ice appeared on where the fire once was, the place both darkening and cooling down at once.

Now with a new perch for himself, he settles his tired self on top the ice, relaxing as soon as his hands touch down on the cool ice. 

Letting himself rest for a second, he faces the village and starts to watch again.

At this time of night, only a few lights were still out. 

They stood out like stars in a cloudy sky, dotting the town and lighting up nearby homes.

Watching the lights, George almost misses a loud crash and thump coming from the forest behind him, echoing through the empty space.

Head shooting up abruptly, he turns towards the noise source.

Sapnap! 

He was in that area.

His worry spiking, George draws his blade, carefully pointing both at the shadows. 

Waiting for an attack, he braces himself.

When none comes he relaxes, before abruptly remembering Sapnap’s situation.

Taking off, he dashes down the mountain, making his way toward his friend.

“Sapnap! Sapnap!” In between breaths, he calls for his partner.

Running at full speed down the mountain, he fears the worst when he starts to feel eyes watching him and receiving no response from Sapnap.

“Sapnap!” He tries, finally eliciting a response.

“George? What?” He could vaguely make out, still hearing the younger male’s confusion even from this distance.

He could start to make out Sapnap’s white tunic from the distance, almost stumbling over his feet in relief.

Phew.

He was safe.

But what made that noise?

“Sapnap! Sapnap, Sapnap, did you hear that sound?” George breathes out in a panic, finally reaches his partner.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Sapnap says in confusion, finishing off the pig he had trapped in a ring of fire as soon as it tried to cross the line. 

Bending over, he picks up the pig’s carcass, piling it up with the rest of the pigs. 

“What? What do you mean you didn’t hear?” George is in frantic confusion, looking over his shoulder left and right and circling the area. 

“I swear I hear a crash coming from here.” 

Sapnap shrugs.

“Well likely it was from a zombie that got a bit too clumsy, not like it matters.” 

George is still on alert, carefully studying the darkness around them.

Picking up the pig carcasses, Sapnap tosses them over his shoulders.

Seeing Sapnap do this, George slowly lowers his weapons.

“Well, I guess you’re right then. It was nothing.” 

George looks away in embarrassment.

Sapnap laughs at his suffering, almost having to blink back tears.

“Well then, since you’re here now, you mind helping me carry these back?” He asks, pointing at the remaining pigs on the ground with his boot.

Sighing, George puts away his blades, resigning himself to his fate.

“Oh alright,” 

“Great! Now to get back to the campsite. Say, you know the way back after having gotten here so fast?” Sapnap gestures at the trees with his elbow.

George thinks for a moment, dragging a pig behind him.

He shakes his head no. 

“Oh well, great. I was hoping you knew. This place is confusing.” 

George raises an eyebrow at this.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, it was nothing.”

“Well then, lead the way.”

“Alright, alright!”

Starting off at a brisk pace, Sapnap randomly chooses a direction, already forgetting which way George came from.

After a few turns, Sapnap already looks confused.

Turning back to George, he silently asks him for help.

Knowing that face, George wanted to scream in frustration.

Taking the lead, he sets off again, this time much faster than how Sapnap led.

After a similar amount of time, George slows, an equal amount of confusion present on his face.

Sapnap finally speaks up.

“Great, we’re lost.”

“Yeah, and all thanks to your terrible navigation skills!”

“And? You also forgot the way! And you were the one to come here last!”

“Oh would you please shut your trap and—“

“Wait. You hear that?”

George stills, listening carefully.

The faint sounds of bones clanking were just barely audible, giving George a shock.

A feeling in his gut, he ducks to the side.

An arrow whizzed by, missing his far by mere inches.

“And great.”

Sapnap dumps his pigs on the ground, searching his belt for a better weapon.

He pulls out a single arrow, suddenly realizing he had left them all at the campsite.

Great.

He could hear the bone noises get louder, much louder, and could start to see the glint of shining arrowheads poking out the shadows, adding to his nervousness.

“Uh, George?” He turns to his friend, seeing him draw his weapons.

“You think we might be in a bit of a situation right now?” 

George stays silent, waiting on the mobs’ first move.

The skeletons step out, surrounding the two in a large circle stretching for what seemed to be several tree lengths.

Sapnap ignites his palms. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

. . .

Clay’s never felt this much adrenaline in his life, even after all those times he was chased across the whole village.

Watching himself—no, Dream—expertly grasp each branch at the right time and alternating between landing on the branch or swinging off it amazed himself.

He didn’t even know his own body could do that.

“You like what you see? I can hear your amazement from here.”

Oh right. Dream could hear his thoughts.

“Your silence means a yes, right? I’ll take it as one.”

Watching him make a particularly far jump, Clay is amazed at how Dream could still make small talk as he swung from tree to tree.

The night sky was in full capacity that night, and the bird’s eye view of the forest made this trip much more enjoyable than if he were simply on the ground.

Preoccupied by his thoughts, he fails to see himself start to freefall until he felt the jerk of it, and he’s suddenly almost screaming.

“Ouch, chill! That’s pretty loud, you know?” He hears Dream say, landing on a lower branch a she does so.

How does he do this? 

“With a lot of training and skill, I’d say, made even a dash of natural talent.” Clay hears himself answer. .

Not like that’s particularly helpful.

Not wanting to start another back and forth argument, he pauses his thoughts for a second and turns his attention back to the trip.

A few more swings in, he feels his hands stop, grasping firmly on the branch they were atop before swinging up and into the air.

Landing on the same branch, he stays kneeling.

What was Dream doing? 

“Shhh. Listen”

Straining his ears, he could barely make out the sound of bone rattling, the sound of a nearby skeleton.

“Wait one second, I’ll get closer.”

This time prepared for the action, he trusts Dream’s movements, this time much less panicked.

Upon getting closer to the noise, they could make out the outskirts of a large mob of skeletons, seemingly circling one specific area.

“I think there’s people there.”

Wait, what? 

Clay thinks to why there would be people in this mountain out this late at night. Apart from himself. He had his reasons. 

But even still, he didn't know.

Stilling while hanging from another branch, Dream lies in wait.

“I definitely hear people.”

What? 

“Let’s go then! We got to help them!”

Clay’s immediately dropped from the tree, falling a good distance down. This time, Dream didn’t even make a cushion with his power, and he could feel his legs rattle. 

That has got to hurt.

Taking off in a sprint, Dream shoves past skeleton after skeleton, Clay’s fearful yelling in his head.

“Calm down, calm down, Clay! I know what I’m doing.” Dream says, sliding under several skeleton legs.

Not like any reassurance from him helps.

Now in the midst of a hostile mob, Clay’s fear is at an all time high.

Forget the parkour Dream was doing a second ago. 

This was worse. 

Way worse.

Nearing the clearing, Clay swallows—or at least he felt like he wanted to—in his head.

Bracing himself, he blocks out his vision and prepares for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta was busy today—again lol 
> 
> I was busy so this was almost a late upload, jeez—


	4. Uneasy Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late chapter, I know. I hope the longer chapter makes up for it. Beta is busy as usual lol

Skeppy’s hand is around his sword, slick with sweat.

Seeing their campsite that they had hastily erected, Skeppy hastens his pace.

Bad drags his feet behind the younger boy, panting and sweating hard. 

Questing was hard.

Skeppy is a distance ahead of him, still awfully cheerful despite their current failure.

Their first attempt at a quest was…

A letdown…

At best..

Grimacing at both the pain in his legs and the memory of their disastrous quest, he tries to pick up his pace.

They had arrived back at the quest board fairly late, after the crowds had started to disperse. They had only left the more menial quests on the board, the ones no one were willing to do despite the pay.

If they wanted to become a respected guild, this is what they had to start with.

And that’s how they were stuck traveling the local forest, looking for some poor guy’s prized cow.

The flyer said it was yellow, but they seriously doubted that.

Skeppy aggressively plants his sword on the ground, leaning on it. 

Finally, Bad hoddles over to their tent, sharing the sword in the ground with Skeppy. 

Slumping down on the ground, Bad sighs in relief.

He’s definitely tired.

Running throughout the tall birch forest bordering their town, a bright yellow cow should have been easy to spot. 

Then again, if the cow was really yellow, Bad thought, he would be an immortal. A cake-loving immortal. And he didn’t even like cake! 

Shaking off his doubts, he focuses back on his present.

It had already started to get dark, and their campsite was mediocre at best.

They didn’t even have a campfire.

This was great. Just great.

Trying to sit up, he checks his bag.

Sure, he had a flint and steel, but would it be enough to last the night? They barely even had weapons, only the sword Skeppy had taken along and a bow and a few arrows for Bad. Would that even be enough to take out a full night’s worth of monsters?

Sighing, he takes out the flint and steel and sets down the bag.

Skeppy sees, quick to scoop up a couple twigs and lay them out for Bad, not even caring to set them up in the correct setup for a campfire. 

Hitting the flint and steel together, Bad lights a spark and gets a tiny fire going.

Casting away the few shadows starting to settle around their campsite, Bad and Skeppy get to work adding fuel to their pitiful fire. 

When the fire had reached a respectable size, the two sat down by the warm campfire, basking in its heat.

Feeling the chill start to set in, they huddled closer together, seeing as the fire alone wasn’t enough.

“You really think this guy has a yellow cow?” Skeppy asks, out of the blue.

“I mean, he really looked kinda deranged, you know? Maybe he was just talking about a mooshroom, but then he would have to be seriously colorblind to see red as yellow.”

Bad snickers.

“Maybe someone just scammed him? Sold him a cow dyed yellow and told him it was special.” Bad points out.

“Well then, he would have to be really deranged to believe that guy. Would he really be deranged if he had the money for finding the darn thing, though?” 

“Maybe he has the money because he was deranged.”

They both devolve into manic laughter.

Starting to tear up, their vision started to blur. Just in time for a shadow to start creeping up behind Skeppy.

Abruptly, Bad sits up straight as a board. He saw something.

Confused, Skeppy’s laughter trails off.

Scrambling for the sword, Bad fumbled the hilt.

Suddenly understanding, Skeppy turns around, a split second too late.

The zombie behind them sinks its teeth into his shoulder.

Pain shoots through his arm, spiking in intensity as the zombie digs deeper into his arm.

Finally getting a grip on the sword, Bad leaps up from the ground and strikes.

In a single slice, Bad decapitates the monster, overextending his arm and pulling his shoulder.

Slowly falling to the ground, the zombie head disintegrates as it lands on the ground with a thud.

Feeling the fangs loosen, Skeppy sighs in relief.

The rest of the body slumps over, also starting to turn to dust.

The blood flows from Skeppy’s wound, unhindered as the blood has yet to clot.

Leaving behind a small portion of flesh, the zombie’s remnants blow away in the wind.

Watching it drift, Bad drops the sword, which clatters to the ground.

“Wow.” He could hear Skeppy murmur.

Turning back to Skeppy, Bad’s eyes widened.

Skeppy traces Bad’s line of sight, realizing that the blood was starting to pool by his feet.

Quickly covering his shoulder, he looks back at Bad sheepishly.

“It’s not that bad, I swear!”

Bad could see the blood start to flow through Skeppy’s fingers, staining them red.

He could feel his cheeks pale, staring at the wound for longer. 

His concern for the younger boy growing, Bad’s in a mad dash to make sure Skeppy is alright.

Nearing the boy, Bad could feel his arms tingle. 

Skeppy’s wide pupils contradicted his standoffish smirk, and Bad didn’t even have to be an empath to know he was lying about the pain.

Bad could feel the fear coming off Skeppy in waves, his sheer panic making Bad’s stomach twirl.

Even then, he’s fast.

Finally about to crash into Skeppy, he could see the boy tense up in order to brace for impact.

Bad’s fingers go through Skeppy’s shoulder.

. . .

Ducking and weaving through various barrages of arrows, Dream slowly starts approaching the two adventurers, surrounded by a fearsome number of mobs.

Sensing their fear, he quickes his pace.

“Alright Clay,” he says in reassurance, starting to notice Clay’s increased panic after a moment of silence from the usually skittish boy.

“I’ve got this.”

Darting past several other skeletons, Dream starts approaching the adventurer clad in blue.

Knowing the man had another weapon, he speeds past him, taking a blade for himself.

“Thanks!” He calls over his shoulder.

Ouch. That was a lot of screaming.

… 

Clay’s alarm bells rang at full speed when Dream started approaching the two adventurers.

Hearing the two’s sounds of surprise added to the chaos in his mind already, background noise for his fear-powered mental outcry. 

Watching Dream quickly snatch a blade from one of them, Clay’s even more scared.

Hearing him say a casual ‘thanks’ to the man who he had taken the blade from sent him over the edge of his self restraint.

“Dream! Why’d you do that! Oh, god.” He tried to convey to Dream, his disbelief evident even mentally.

Clay doesn’t think Dream heard him, just the usual for that guy.

He continues his shouting, slowly turning into panic filled rants on how Dream was going to get the two of them killed.

The first adventurer’s surprised shout added to the din of the battle. 

“Who’s that?” The other one screams, quickly charring a skeleton sneaking up on him into ash. 

Feeling Dream wince, probably from all the voices shouting at him in the middle of battle, he readies his blade.

“No time! Just fight!” 

Great. Just like Dream to leave the explanations for later.

Grasping the blade, his fingers move as if he had been using one his whole life. 

Granted, he didn’t know how long Dream had used a knife in combat, so he wasn’t all entirely doubting that.

Thrusting the blade ahead, then slicing horizontally through the air, Dream decapitates a skeleton, letting its head clatter down onto the grass.

Throwing the knife into the air, he catches it with a reversed grip, immediately moving into a windup.

With a full-armed swing, Dream slashes through a line of mobs, cutting through their rib cages and letting them crumple down to the ground. 

Hearing a bow string being drawn, he turns around, ducking to the side to avoid an incoming arrow.

Turning his wrist, he waits for the skeleton to begin reloading an arrow before his strikes.

Digging his blade into the mob’s collarbones, he drags the blade down, fast.

As the rib bones snap as the blade is dragged down, Clay could only watch in amazement.

He could barely register each action, the time taking Dream to cut down each skeleton faster than his eyes would process.

He’s in shock.

“Like what you see? I told you I could hold my own.” Clay could hear Dream chuckle, immediately launching himself back into combat.

Clay knew Dream was right.

He was good.

Spinning on his toes, Dream comes face to face with fresh skeletons replacing their fallen comrades.

Dream smirks.

Clay’s panic rushes at the feeling of that, the unfamiliar expression on his face, and yet he could also feel something else. 

He could feel adrenaline.

As Dream moved, Clay got more and more excited, each fluid movement making his stomach feel like it was turning inside out. 

And he liked it. 

Facing off this new group of monsters made his fear spiral, and yet a certain part of himself twitched in excitement.

With the skill Dream provided, he was exhilarated by the action.

He could really get used to this.

Dream strikes, leaping into the air with a single calculated jump. 

Clay could hear the skeletons fire, arrows arching just below him, but close enough he could feel the wind from them.

Starting to fall, Dream angles his knife, straight in position to slice the skeleton below directly in half.

Clay knew the other adventurer was nearby, and he could see him registering Dream’s move.

Cutting through the first skeleton with ease, Dream turns to face the rest of them.

Quickly being met with a face full of fire, he sees the tail end of the adventurer letting out a single large pillar of fire. Starting from where he had positioned his palm and stretching far beyond it, the fire ignited, catching the rest of the skeletons left for Dream to fight and a few stray ones in its path.

Charring them to bits, the second adventurer gives Dream a quick wink, as if to say ‘you owe me one’ and turns back around to fight.

Letting go of his moment of shock, Dream gets back to work.

Clay was left stunned at that move. 

The man was a skilled fire user, he could see from the sheer size of the flame pillar and the way he had kept it to a single line of fire and not let it spread to any of the many trees surrounding them.

He was impressed.

Focusing back on what Dream was doing, Clay watches the crowd of skeletons start to thin out.

Looking out for the two adventurers they were helping out, Clay notes the skeleton’s moves starting to get choppier, the moon starting to move lower and lower.

Everything in the clearing knew it was going to be dawn soon, even the mobs.

Watching Dream’s excellent knife skills and the lessening chaos of the forest, Clay could only watch in awe.

Climbing high on a tree, Dream finishes off one more mob, clearing his area.

Noticing the clear lack of mobs in his area, Dream closes in on the few left wandering outside the main crowd, pushing the back towards the other two adventurers.

Dream had mostly stuck to the middle, where the most skeletons were, while Clay could also see the other two men near the outskirts, handling their own well.

The two notice Clay and Dream, and they seem to register what Dream was doing as he approached the two.

Deliberately pushing back the remaining mobs, Dream lets the one in blue, who Clay had noticed use ice powers in battle, take the lead.

Nodding to his teammate, he freezes the ground below the mobs.

“Duck!” He yells, cupping his mouth.

Clay does it before Dream could register the command, sinking into a deep bow.

In that moment, the other adventurer, the one who had used fire powers a moment ago, sends out a wide berth of flame.

Less concentrated than the one before, Clay notices the man letting the fire spread, torching all the remaining skeletons in the way.

Falling to the ground in charred bits, the last of the mobs had gone.

Immediately dropping the knife, Dream falls to the ground in a heap, sighing in relief.

Heading the two adventurers approach them, Clay’s adrenaline starts to taper off and long put off fear starts to set in.

Right.

Based on the combat prowess the two had shown in the battle moments ago, Clay wasn’t sure how the two would react to a newcomer suddenly butting in.

Dream seemed to notice his panic and started to subtly drag his fingers closer to the dropped blade on the ground.

Great. Like that would be enough to take down two skilled opponents at once.

Clay could feel Dream almost chuckle at that, scaring him even more.

Was this man not scared of anything?

“Thanks for your help before. We really needed it.”

Looking up, they’re met with hazy white goggles.

The first adventurer holds out a hand towards Dream.

Clay watches him take the hand nervously.

“I’m George.” The blue one starts to introduce himself.

“This dumb guy is—“ 

“I’m Sapnap! And I’ll just say, don’t bother with him, he’s a bit of the unreliable type.” The fire user cut George off, pointing at the shorter man from behind.

“Says the person who got us lost in the first place! I swear, you would’ve literally gotten us killed if it wasn’t for him.” Clay could see George’s pressed eyebrows even with the goggles obscuring most of his face.

Sapnap’s cocky smile widens, eyes narrowing.

“And you were the one that forgot how he got here in the first place! Oh look at poor Gogy, blaming his partner for his mistakes,” Sapnap saying the last bit in a singsong.

The two get in a scuffle, approaching each other and physically starting to butt heads.

Clay and Dream watch on in equal parts surprise and amusement.

Clay, for the most part, didn’t expect the lightheartedness of the two adventurers. Dream on the other hand had a light smile on Clay’s face, knife left unnoticed on the ground.

Suddenly remembering there was another person with them, George gives one final push towards Sapnap, quickly running away before Sapnap could launch a rebuttal.

With the pressure from George pushing back now suddenly gone, Sapnap falls onto his butt.

Running back off towards Dream, who had at this point slowly inched his way backwards and had started leaning on a nearby tree, he leaves Sapnap stunned on the ground.

In a swift move, Dream’s up and has the fallen knife in hand, pointing it at George.

Clay starts shrieking.

“Dream! Why would you do that! We’ve just met them and they’ve done nothing to us and do you really want us killed this—“ 

Clay cuts off when Dream starts to chuckle at George’s momentary look of fear, lowering the blade.

“Heh.” 

He tosses the blade in the air, letting it fall back into position in his hand.

With a careful hand, he hands it over to a now wary George, Sapnap not far behind him.

Taking it back and inspecting it carefully, George nods in approval.

Sapnap had gone to retrieve the partially charred pigs left laying in the clearing, choosing the time to pop back up behind George after the blade was lowered.

Clay was thankful. 

Who knows how painful a blast of hot fire would be to the face.

He didn’t want to find out.

George’s head turns, looking at the pigs Sapnap had hauled back. Smirking, he turns back to Dream.

“You are?” He says, carefree in his tone, but Clay could notice the careful furrow of his brow.

“Me?” Dream says with a chuckle, looking off to the side.

“My name is Dream.”

George pauses for a moment, as if to consider his next action.

“So Dream, what brings you to this forest? I don’t think local townspeople usually venture this far into the forest this late at night.”

Dream stills.

Clay’s mental alarms were going off at full force. 

What do they say? What would be the least sketchy? 

Dream nods in consideration of Clay’s worries, taking longer to form an answer to them.

“I guess you could say I was bored.” 

Clay’s fear multiplies as the two adventurers stay still in silence.

Dream, now actually starting to get worried, quickly adds on

“The thing is, I live pretty close to the woods. I wanted to see if there was anything good out here.” Pausing for a bit at George and Sapnap’s confusion, Dream continues.

“I’ve never dared venture this deep but tonight I wanted to see what was out there. My parents always told me to stay away, and I wasn’t sure to believe them.” The words roll smoothly off his tongue, a better lie than anything Clay had ever done in his life.

George looked disappointed, but Sapnap quickly perked up.

“Well, judging from that easy takedown of those mobs, I think your parents were a bit too careful, you know?” 

Dream awkwardly chuckles, trailing off towards the end.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well then, since dawn is approaching, I think your parents would like you to stay with a reasonable adult, right?” George grits his teeth, hand twitching.

“Would you like to come to our campsite with us?”

Sapnap starts to laugh his head off.

George pales, mortified at what he said.

“I don’t mean it like that! I only meant if you would like to stay with us for the night, you know, as thanks for saving us!” 

“Dude, what would his parents think?” Sapnap reminds him through heavy laughter.

“Oh right. Well, he’s still welcome to come. If he was in the forest in the first place, would he really listen to his parents on that either?”

Dream finally speaks up, cutting off Sapnap, who was opening his mouth to reply.

“Well, it is getting close to dawn. I have to head back anyways, soon.”

Seeing George and Sapnap’s disappointed looks, Dream quickly adds on to his statement, Clay flabbergasted in the background.

“Well, I guess I could spare a few more hours. Dawn’s not happening for another while.”

Sapnap’s visibly excited, letting off sparks from his exposed skin in his eagerness.

“Great! We’ll show you back…” he trails off in realization.

“For the gods’ sake! We don’t even know the way back.” Sapnap’s back in a rut, sparks quickly going out.

Rubbing his forehead in frustration, George looks at the two younger boys, despite the obvious height difference.

“Well then, we’ll just find our way back by hand then.”

Dream nods, then roughly gets his arm taken by Sapnap, who had already dashed off.

Clay, now thoroughly annoyed, resigns himself to his fate, giving periodic reminders for Dream to turn back.

“Hurry up! Dream, we have to go, mom and dad are going to wake up any second now!”

Dream takes that reminder with no verbal response, only a silent nod.

Taking the lead from Sapnap, he leads the clueless boy, with George hot on their heels.

…

Sapnap was following Dream’s lead, not a single clue where the strange boy was heading.

Turning sharp corners and jumping over various bushes, it was safe to assume Dream also didn’t know where he was heading.

Sapnap couldn’t see his whole face due to the white mask obscuring it, but he was fairly certain he was correct with his assumption as the boy started to pick up his pace.

Knowing he had all the ability to take the lanky boy down, Sapnap followed him in amusement, a stark contrast to the worried flailing and screaming George behind them. 

After a little while longer of the wild goose chase Dream had led them on, Sapnap’s eye started to twitch.

Why would he lead them on for this long? 

Would he really not know where he was going at this point? 

Still, he didn’t voice his concerns, content to just follow Dream.

Suddenly, Dream turns a corner and disappears. 

Catching up to where Dream was when he vanished, Sapnap enters a vacant clearing.

Inside was the campsite they had left, smoke still drifting from the hastily extinguished campfire.

Looking around, Sapnap could see Dream was gone, nowhere in sight within the campsite.

Where could he have gone? 

George suddenly skids to a stop behind him, marveling at the fact they had been led to their campsite.

Not seeing a Dream anywhere in sight, George voices his shock.

“That Dream guy is a real mystery, isn’t he?”

. . .

“You know, last time I went to actually perform at a concert, I had the ladies drool over me for the next week I was in town!”

Techno could start to feel Wilbur’s voice grind in his eardrums, every step hearing his annoying voice starting to feel like a mile.

His arm itches for the axe strapped behind him, wanting to shove it through Wilbur’s face.

He suddenly feels the regret of sparing the musician set in, mouth twitching at the ends for every other second he has to listen to the man talk.

The forest seemed to spread endlessly around them.

Techno was almost desperate for a place to rest now, a desire he almost never has.

Waking faster, he almost leaves Wilbur behind, deciding against it at the last moment.

Resigning himself to Wilbur’s rambles, Techno walks on, not attempting to drown out a single word of his.

“Literally! He just left me there, alone! He gave a speech or something about not relying on others and how he was out for himself and only—“

That wasn’t a bright idea.

Techno starts to ignore him again, learning his lesson.

Walking through the vast forest, Techno watches the sun traverse through the sky, now starting to set.

Looking at anything but Wilbur, Techno observes the forest, looking for a place to set up camp before the sun fully sets.

Feeling like he had walked across a whole desert, Techno’s regret skyrockets.

The trees seem to never end, starting to merge into one large entity as Techno’s trek continues.

Faster in his desperation, Techno leaves Wilbur in his wake, ignoring all protest from the older man.

Cape flowing behind him, Techno darts away, off to find a campsite.

Heading farther away from Wilbur, he could start to hear less from the musician, and Techno could start to focus on his campsite finding mission.

Seeing the trees start to thin out, Techno’s quickly excited by the possibility of finally sitting down to rest.

Entering a wide clearing, Techno’s eyes light up with relief.

Stopping directly in his tracks, he waits for Wilbur to catch up.

He could hear the man start to approach, pants and wheezing coming from the empty forest behind him.

“Techno! Techno! Wait up! Wait!” 

Techno could hear the man’s frenzied screaming, smiling at himself as Wilbur neared. 

Starting to see Wilbur’s yellow sweater emerge from the shadows of a heavy forest, Techno gets himself back to work, rummaging through a deep belt.

Wilbur catching up to him, now in an exhausted silence panting and heaving, Techno finally relaxes.

With Wilbur’s eyes on him, Techno pulls out a bundle of cloth and sticks, far too large to have fit in his belt pockets, making Wilbur’s eyes widen to the size of fists.

Staring at Wilbur with an eyebrow raised, Techno watches impatiently.

Sheepishly looking away, Wilbur seems to remember he had to get to work.

Setting down his stuff, Wilbur looks back at Techno, awaiting instructions.

Sighing, Techno goes back to rummage in his bag, looking for something Wilbur could do.

Finding a flint and steel, Techno eyes Wilbur warily before tossing him the flint and steel.

Barely catching it, Wilbur rushes off to set a fire.

Nodding at the man’s enthusiasm, Techno gets back to his work, unfurling the folded up tent.

Setting up the poles and draping the cloth over it, Techno admired his handy work for a second.

Suddenly hearing a grumble of frustration, Techno turns back, getting face to face with Wilbur aggressively clashing a flint and steel together to no avail.

Wilbur, by now sweating in frustration, was winding up to slam the darned flint and steel into the ground, suddenly freezing as he felt Techno’s presence behind him.

Techno quickly snatches it out of Wilbur’s hand, an almost furious look in his eyes.

Squatting down to the ground where Wilbur was seated, he glares with anger at where he had erected his tent.

Looking back at forth from Wilbur and his tent, he hopes Wilbur gets the point as he turns his attention back to setting the fire.

Effortlessly, Techno sets a campfire.

Turning back towards Wilbur, Techno eyes him set up a patchwork tent, pitching it with clumsy hands.

Sighing at his inexperience, Techno watches him with tired eye, wondering why he had even agreed to the persuasive man’s deal.

Still.

He wasn’t going to back out now.

He wouldn’t be Technoblade if he did so.

Eying Wilbur in his reckless attempt of setting up a tent, Techno debates taking it from him to also do it himself.

Getting knocked back to the real world as he hears someone clears their throat, he’s met with an impatient Wilbur standing by a haphazard, yet still standing tent.

For once, Techno’s finally proud, glad Wilbur at least has one ability useful for survival.

Making himself a seat across the fire across from Techno, Wilbur makes himself at home.

Techno, setting out some meat he had brought along, prays fast to every god he knew—and he knew plenty—that Wilbur would not take out the wretched guitar sitting across the clearing.

He’s glad as the air remains music free even after another second.

He wouldn’t want to listen to Wilbur sing. No matter how compelling it might have been.

“So, Techno,” Wilbur says, taking a piece of mutton off the campfire and giving it a quick sniff.

“I promised you knowledge as part of our deal. What do you want to know.” 

Techno pauses at that.

What does he want to know? 

He hadn’t ever had a goal in life outside of being the very best, so what could he ever want to be that best? 

What knowledge could this fellow wanderer provide him that he already didn’t know? 

He’s silent for a good moment.

Wilbur, watching on with a curious expression, quietly eats his food.

The firelight dances across Wilbur’s face, and with the setting sun illuminating everything orange, it was a sight to see.

With dark shadows starting to drag across everything in the forest, Techno finally has his answer.

With a deep breath, Techno opens his mouth.

The way Wilbur excitedly scooted to the edge of his seat reminded him of his siblings, threatening to ruin his calm exterior as an amused smirk threatened to show on his mouth. 

Dark shadows deepening Wilbur’s eager face, Techno finally pops his question. 

“Say, what could you tell me about the Nether?”

. . .

The peeps of the first light of dawn had started to show through the horizon, giving Clay a fright.

His worry must have reached Dream, as he could start to hear a chuckle from him.

“Calm down, we’re going to reach your room soon,” he tried to reassure the skittish boy.

Clay wanted to scoff at that.

And what? Trust any of what Dream says? 

“And look where that’s gotten you. Still in one piece. Tell you what. I’ll hurry up.”

Good.

Feeling Dream pick up the pace, he’s glad Dream kept to his word. 

Finally getting his windowsill within an arm’s reach, Clay eagerly takes control of his arm.

Almost dropping himself on the cobblestone paving, he realized how hard it was to actually stay on the wall.

Dream’s full on laughing, now. A rare sound.

Dream’s wheeze was audible all across the neighborhood, a far cry from Clay’s more controlled laughter.

Now sheepish at his haste, Clay tells Dream to pack it up.

“Dream. You’ve got to stop, you’re going to wake up the whole town at this point!” 

“I know, but it’s just—too funny—to see you try to stay on this wall on your own!” Dream replies, words slotted in between heavy wheezes.

Making a far jump, Dream’s finally able to reach the windowsill, the old wood creaking under their weight.

Quick to haul the two of them up, Dream fits through the wide window with ease, depositing the two down in Clay’s room.

“That was quite a night.” 

Clay could barely catch the tail end of that sentence, instead rushing to take control of his hand and slide the smiling mask off his face.

Tossing it aside on the floor, Clay’s all of a sudden hit with a large wave of fatigue, probably from all the movement Dream had done using his body.

With a slight moment in between, Clay’s legs, spiking with pain, drops him down on his bed, sinking into the blankets without any hindrance.

Within a second, Clay’s out like a light, drifting into the deep realms of sleep.

. . .

A lone figure stands in the darkness, hovering in the infinite abyss surrounding him.

A cape flows behind them, runes floating in the air around him.

Light from a small hole from above slowly fades away, the hole closing up.

In the pitch darkness, the figure curls up.

He knew he had to wait.

He had to be patient.

For the right moment.

And yet, 

He couldn’t.

It’s been so long already.

It’s been so hard.

He can’t stand it at this point.

Could he really ever do it? 

Get back to normal?

What even was the normal he’d return to?

Was there anything left?

What had happened since he had become…

This?

Shaking his head, he looks back up to where the hole once was.

The boy.

That was new.

Everything about him was new.

Nothing in the past had ever come close to anything like him.

He was as much of a mystery as how he’d get back to normal.

He was nothing special, ordinary, bland.

And yet. 

He was everything.

Like he had said, nothing like the others. Nothing like that which had come before. 

New.

Refreshing. 

He was all he needed. 

He couldn’t wait to see what this would bring on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I tried my best with the action but I know it’s not the best lol— as hey, character interaction! Any mistakes were probably from the fact it’s about 3 am when I’m writing this all so uh—also chapters are kinda slow to come out now lol, real life has gotten me in a slump unfortunately.


	5. Nighttime is the Time of Opportunity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late upload, pretty sorry, but hey, it’s pretty long. Beta busy as usual, only got like a thousand of the words proof read :P

Under the cover of night, Tommy returns to the forest with items in his arms. 

Scanning over the dark trees, he searches for a splash of green.

Ducking under a tree branch, Tommy spots a torch from afar.

Smiling at his find, he speeds up, almost dropping his items. 

Nearing the small expanse of light in the shadowed forest, Tommy almost shouts in excitement before remembering he had to be quiet while in the silent forest.

Looking behind him to check for any unwanted followers, Tommy finally reaches the tree illuminated by the torch.

Finally up close to the tree, Tommy could see the small cubbyhole in the tree where he had left Tubbo in as he ventured out for items.

Shoving aside Tubbo’s green cloak he had used to cover up the hole from plain sight, Tommy drops his items on the ground.

“Tubbo!” He calls in relief, ignoring his own reminder a minute ago.

Seeing the brown-haired boy shift slightly in his rest, his worry decreased significantly. 

“Yeah, Tommy? We have all night, you know, you could just say it.” 

Tommy almost laughs in triumph at that, Tubbo being his regular self despite the dire circumstances they were in at the moment.

“Nice to know you’re impatient,” Tommy says in a mocking exasperated tone. 

Digging through the pile of items he had just dumped on the floor, Tommy pulls out a single small glass vial.

Tubbo sees it, eyes widening.

“You know Tommy, do we really need that potion? How much did you spend on it?” Tubbo voices his concern, trying to pass it off as banter.

Tommy, knowing the other boy too well, could tell his attempt at banter was ingenuine. 

Narrowing his eyes as the size of the vial, Tommy didn’t dare look at Tubbo for a second to confirm his suspicions.

“Tubbo. You know exactly why we need this.” 

Staring pointedly at the partially blood stained cloak covering their cubbyhole, Tommy silences Tubbo as he also looks at it.

“Tubbo. Tubbo, you know that they’re still following us. Tubbo, you know why we need to keep running.” Tommy paused, uncorking the bottle.

“If they find us again, you know where they’re going to take us back to. You’ll know what they’ll do to you.” Tommy’s turned around by now, staring down Tubbo, a dark look present in his eyes. 

“You know I wouldn’t ever let that happen to you.” 

Tubbo’s eyes light up under the torchlight. 

It’s not like Tubbo hasn’t heard this before, Tommy practically lives by that. 

In this dark night, Tommy knows that there’s something more to that phrase. 

Tubbo swallows, nodding his head at Tommy. 

With a proud smile, he chuckles, carefully handing over the vial, magenta liquid swirling inside.

With shaking hands, Tubbo carries the liquid over to his mouth, downing the whole thing in a flash.

In an instant his eyes start to droop, the effects of the instant health potion Tommy had traded lots of stolen gold for had started to work its magic.

Knowing where he had gotten it from Tommy hadn’t expected it to work as well as it did, and yet he knew it could have probably been done better if the drowsiness that came with the potion had anything to say.

Watching the smaller boy drift off to bed, his wounds starting to close up faster, Tommy sits on the edge of the cubbyhole, watching Tubbo sleep.

Frowning slightly at the lingering dried blood on Tubbo’s cheeks, Tommy knew he had to do something.

Living like this wasn’t good for anyone, especially the usually happy-go-lucky Tubbo.

What would he have to do? 

He does know.

All he knew is that things had to change. 

For him.

For Tubbo.

. . .

Bad isn’t sure where he was.

The world around him seemed to swallow up around him, all pitch black void.

Floating in the abyss, he swims around in the almost suffocating darkness. 

Finally looking down, he could see splashes of light under his feet.

Bad perks up at the sight of that.

Maneuvering into a diving position, he makes his way slowly but surely through the emptiness.

Seeing the lights start to get larger, he knew he was making progress.

Now approaching the balls of light, he could see the distance between each of them, all too bright to stare at for long, but despite that Bad kept looking on.

Where was he? 

Looking for anything worthwhile, he approaches a nearby ball of light.

This one was a pale blue color, almost the color of the daytime sky. 

Poking a tentative finger through the light, he feels the edge move around him, as if he repelled the light.

Feeling no pain, he shoves the rest of his hand in.

Tingling. 

Bad’s curiosity peaks. 

He walks into the ball of light.

The deeper he got within the light, the less it moved away, eventually starting to feel like the air on his skin back on his own world.

The freshness of the light started to warm him up, the heat filling him with excitement.

Once deep into the ball of light, he starts to see a scenery form out of the pale blue distance, a mountainscape and forest emerging from the distance.

Looking around, he could see the light bend around a human-like figure.

Looking back down at his fingers, he notices how it hadn’t done that to him.

Were there other people here? 

How did they get in here? 

How did he get in here in the first place?

Walking closer to the figure, a sharp pain shoots up his head.

It was similar to the pain he gets when in a large crowd, all the emotions burning their way through his brain and out the other side.

It reeked of worry.

Momentarily stopping in his tracks to sort out his headache, Bad looks down for a second.

Closing his eyes, his legs wobble under his weight, even in this…

place.

Looking back up, headache momentarily calming down, he could see the person with clearer eyes.

It was Skeppy.

Looking lost and wandering, a desaturated look to him and the light dimming around him, he looked almost pitiful.

Bad, his worry overpowering what he had gotten from Skeppy, started a mad dash to his friend.

Catching up to the wandering adventurer, Bad tries to tackle him to the floor.

Not a great idea, he knew.

What was even worse than that was the fact that his body had gone through his friend, falling to the ground in a heap behind him.

Tumbling into the ground, Bad looks at his fingers.

He touched them. They felt solid enough. 

So what had happened? 

Getting back on his feet, Bad turns back around to Skeppy, who had momentarily stopped in his tracks.

He looked almost through Bad, before quickly moving on and started his walk again.

Running up behind him, Bad kept reaching out for his friend.

Calling out his name as he went, Skeppy seemed to walk through the entire plains, unaware of his loud follower.

“Skeppy! Skeppy, wait up! Skeppy, you muffinhead! Why don’t you hear me?” All in an attempt to get Skeppy’s attention, Bad continues his trek.

A sudden numbness shoots up his arm, Bad almost falling to the ground in his surprise.

Shaking it off, Bad stumbles as he fights himself, quick to start to follow Skeppy again. 

“Skeppy!” 

Reaching out just this once, Bad’s fingers could feel the boy’s back brush his fingertips, seemingly felt by Skeppy, too, as his back shoots up straight as his fingers drag down his back.

Turning around in shock, Skeppy almost falls backwards in surprise.

Opening his mouth to say a word, Bad could barely even make out a single word from him before falling down to the ground, stunned.

In a heap and unable to feel his limbs, Bad knew this was the sign of a certain someone’s power.

When had he used it? 

He could see Skeppy right in front of him.

How could he have used it? 

Biting back a shout of surprise, Bad starts to see the edges of his vision brighten, the Skeppy in the dented of his vision starting to blend into something behind him.

Something the exact same as him.

Between one blink and another, Bad’s suddenly back in the real world, on the ground in the same heap he was in in the other. 

Skeppy was in front of him, more bloody than the previous one he had seen, but definitely more saturated.

His fingers were extended in the telltale position of using his stunning ability. 

Bad, grimacing at the numbness in his limbs but trying to smile at seeing Skeppy again, looks at him wordlessly, almost begging Skeppy to release him.

Cocky smile replacing his worried expression, Skeppy snaps his fingers.

Instantly, Bad was up and running at the younger boy, fussing over his injured shoulder.

“Skeppy, you muffinhead! Why were you more careful! Look where that got you now!” Bad reaches behind him, pulling out his rucksack he had left by his tent. 

“Well, I’m alive, aren’t I? Is that good enough with you? Or do I need to be running away from danger every time it turns night?” Skeppy says, dismissing Bad’s concern over him.

Unrolling a roll of bandages he had brought along, Bad was grateful he had taken time to properly learn how to apply bandages before leaving on this quest.

Skeppy let him take his arm, quietly watching Bad wrap his arm delicately and quickly.

Once Bad had tied off the bandage, Skeppy shot up like a rocket.

“Skeppy! Get back down, you’re still injured!” Bad scolds him, dragging him down by his uninjured arm.

“Gods, Bad! Stop acting like a mom, who needs one when we’re out in the wilderness, alone!” Skeppy says, in fake exasperation.

Bad fights the urge to smile at that, keeping his disappointed frown on his face.

“Anyways, why focus on me? I’m doing fine. You were the one who suddenly passed out after doing some weird phase shift thing into me!” 

Bad stiffens. 

“After that you just started twitching on the ground! I had to stun you just so you wouldn’t accidentally burn yourself on the campfire.”

Taking a second to think on his word choice, Bad tries his best to brush it off for now.

“To be honest, I don’t even know. I don’t even know what had happened in this world when I was out.”

“This world? What do you mean by ‘this world?’” Skeppy puts up air quotations around the last phrase.

“Like I said, you muffin. Even I don’t know. I’d tell you if I did, but I really don’t know what happened.”

Skeppy seemed slightly unconvinced, but dropped the topic anyways, staring at the campfire in confusion.

Bad almost loses his calm composure there. 

“It was like I entered another world.” He admits, careful in his tone.

Skeppy looks back at him, turning so fast Bad almost got whiplash.

Looking at him in confusion, Bad elaborates.

“Like I said, I don’t know what I did. How about I try to find more when we start our next quest? See if I could replicate what I did.”

Skeppy seemed more satisfied at this answer, looking at Bad intensely.

“Look, how about we go to bed right now. It’s late. We need the morning to find this guy’s yellow cow.”

Smiling at the mention of the yellow cow, Skeppy nods at Bad’s suggestion, eyelids starting to droop.

Leading him back to their shared tent, the two made themselves comfortable next to each other on the cold ground.

Skeppy instantly falls asleep as he hits the ground, and Bad watches his sleeping face, calmer than he ever is while awake.

Bad likes this. Even with the strange things happening to him.

. . .

Technoblade’s hands quake as he walks on in silence with Wilbur. 

The man was swinging back and forth in his drowsiness, eyes barely open. 

He didn’t even have the energy to complain to Techno about being on the road that early.

Techno’s eyes were equally as droopy and his legs were as stiff as a wooden plank, but at the same time he was wide awake.

The whole night he was kept awake, pondering over what Wilbur had told him over that evening’s fire.

Shaking his head, he couldn’t stop hearing Wilbur’s words echo in his mind.

He wasn’t easily spooked, having seen too much and done too much over his vast travels.

And yet, Wilbur’s words carried weight to them.

Maybe it was just his paranoia of the man, or maybe it was how the fire seemed to dance unnervingly as he spoke, but there was something to it that made him quiver in his boots.

“The Nether isn’t a nice place, you know, Techno.” 

He could hear the area around them go silent, then, and waited on Wilbur’s word, his face going awfully dark even in the bright light of the campfire in front of him.

“Monsters, strength unparalleled by any in this dimension, roam the land, and unbearing heat of the never ending flames able to melt through stone itself.”

Techno had faced worse while in battle, and he knew most of what Wilbur was telling him were rumors he had heard while in town, but he knew in the back of his mind there was something to them.

“There’s rumors of lost souls being trapped in that place, unable to be freed unless turned into an abomination, a creature of chaos.”

Shivering, Techno reminds himself it was just a rumor, like Wilbur said.

“The ancient ones have said that no one makes it out of there alive.” 

The shadows across Wilbur’s face seem to grow in size, making him age centuries as he sat in front of Techno.

“The vast riches scattered across the Nether would tempt any man in search of them, but none would return.” 

Techno was about to open his mouth, ready to prove the musician off, despite the doubt in his mind, but Wilbur cuts him off, more serious than he had ever been in all the time Techno had known him. 

“There was a reason they destroyed all the portals.” 

A heartbeat. 

“Why no man now has the knowledge of how to return to that dimension.” 

An intake of breath.

“Technoblade, somethings are never meant to be rediscovered.”

Shaking his head, Techno tries to shake off the memory of that conversation he had with Wilbur.

The seriousness of the sentence and the way the forest seemed to all be waiting on Wilbur to say the line freaked him out. 

It was all too much.

Eventually, Techno did get the directions to the portal from Wilbur, but only after heavy bargaining.

Techno could feel his coin pouch several pounds lighter, seeming far too light of a cost for such influential knowledge.

The only thing left was to find the instructions of how to rebuild the portal.

Techno knows he has a way to do it.

But first.

“Wilbur. Wake up. We need to get to the village by noon.” 

Shooting up in mild shock, Wilbur picks up his pace, catching up to Techno in a matter of seconds.

Seeing the village path start to appear in front of their trail, Techno nudges Wilbur awake again, this time noticing the village path and waking up fast.

Taking off towards the village, Techno watches in amusement from behind, knowing he could catch up at any time.

“C’mon, Techno! You’re pretty slow, not gonna lie.”

Techno smiles a dangerous smile. 

Was that a challenge?

In an instant he was in front of Wilbur, not a single drop of sweat on him.

Wilbur’s cocky smile dripping off his face, Techno looks back, smirk visible.

Waiting for Wilbur to catch up, Techno watches the sun in the sky, starting to get high in the sky.

Starting to reach the village, the streets were bustling, full of life and cheer.

Shoving past people, Techno makes his way towards the questboard. Wilbur hot on his heels.

“I’m so glad we’re back in society,” Wilbur practically tears up.

“Well don’t start celebrating soon, poet boy. We’ve still got quests to do,” Techno reminds him, monotone voice displaying no annoyance despite his twitching eyes.

Wilbur quickly shuts up, starting to twiddle his thumbs in nervousness.

Making it to the board, Techno roughly grabs Wilbur’s wrist, keeping him from running off.

“You ask to come with me, you ask to do quests with me,”

Wilbur pales.

Giving a nervous smile, he checks out the questboard for himself.

The old wooden board, filled with official flyers and handmade calls for help, seemed much too busy for Techno, getting jostled around by several others impatient to get a quest for themselves.

Finding one long enough for Techno to get out of there fast, Techno quickly snatches it off the board, dragging Wilbur with him.

“We got what we needed. Let’s go.”

Wilbur almost stumbling as they left the board, Wilbur seemed hesitant to speak up, not like what Techno had seen from him the night before.

Staring back at him dangerously, Techno almost threatens him to speak up.

Clambering to open his mouth, Wilbur forces the words out.

“Well since we’re both working on quests right now,” Wilbur looks nervously at Techno.

Techno looks at him to continue.

“Wouldn’t it be in our best interests to start a guild together? I dunno, call it the Sleepy Bois or something?” Wilbur immediately stares intently at Techno, waiting for his answer.

Techno scoffs.

“Just hurry up, we need to get this done today so we need to hurry up.”

. . .

Clay sits down at his desk, a single candle lighting up the dark.

He looks down at the mask, dark smile still visible even in the dim light.

Ever since last night, he had wanted to see what Dream could do again. 

He wanted a taste of the action again.

Without hesitation, he straps the mask on, clasping the back with nimble fingers.

Immediately feeling pushed to the back of his own mind, he could feel Dream’s presence invading his body.

“So, ready to ride with the devil again? So soon, too.”

Clay almost took control of his head again just to sigh in disappointment at Dream.

Smirking, Dream, without hesitation, launches himself out the window.

Knowing what to expect this time, Clay braces for impact, even if he wasn’t physically doing it.

Not even using Clay’s power this time, Dream lands on the ground unharmed, falling into a roll.

Taking off in the direction of the forest, Dream’s smirk says more than anything Clay had ever seen from him previously.

Turning a sharp corner, Dream runs partially up a tree, wind blowing his hair and the leaves back.

Reaching for a high branch, Dream takes it with one hand, flipping himself off the branch and landing on a slightly lower one.

Clay, already thoroughly enjoying the experience, silently urges Dream to continue.

“No need to be impatient,” Dream says in a chuckle, before Clay even voices his thoughts.

Quickly, he moves on.

Crouching down, then leaping into the air, Dream soars through the open forest, limbs outstretched.

Clay could feel his adrenaline course, the sheer excitement from the leap already curing his previous boredom.

Gripping onto a stray vine by the last hand width, Dream swings high into the air, letting go just as the vine peaks in height.

Taking caution to land on his feet atop a singular thin branch, Dream holds out his arms in a controlled balance.

His heart beating, Clay could hear the blood coursing in his ears, wanting to grin in excitement despite the current occupant of his body.

Dream continues on in his show, purposely falling backwards off the tree.

Indignant shock coming to mind first, Clay eventually calms his nerves, putting his trust in Dream’s abilities as they freefall off the tall tree.

Just as they were about to hit the ground, Clay could slowly feel the world grind to a halt as they descend.

Fear spiking as he saw the ground start to approach and yet feeling no impact, Clay’s practically begging Dream to continue.

“Dream, please! Just go! Please, this is a bit too much, too much!”

Smiling at Clay’s apparent panic, Dream gives a small chuckle.

Time seems to speed up again, and Clay’s scared, yet again, as the ground seemed to come at him closer and closer.

Using both hands, Dream grasps onto a tree branch slightly above them as they fell, using it to spin around faster and faster until he lets go, flying forward.

Landing on a bough directly ahead of them Dream stops in his tracks, holding onto the trunk.

Breathing heavily, and yet controlled, Dream watches the moon rise slowly overhead.

Clay could feel his words die on him, the view stunning.

Mountains in the farthest reaches of his sight, the moonlight illuminates the forest below them, dark green leaves shining silver as the light bathes them.

The scenery panned out for miles in front of him, Clay mesmerized by the sheer length of the forest surrounding his home.

“You like that, don’t you?” Dream’s, well, more like Clay’s, voice cuts through, surprising Clay in his awe.

“Yes,” he could barely manage, breathless even in his own mind.

“Mhm.” He could feel Dream murmur, equally as appreciative.

Taking in the view for a second longer, Dream gives the tree one last squeeze as he braces his legs.

“C‘mon. Let’s go.”

Trying his best to send a mental nod, Clay agrees.

Jumping down from that height now that he’s been through worse made the trip down seem so much more exciting to Clay, his heart quickly starting to pound in his chest yet again.

With a flick of his wrist, Dream yet again uses Clay’s power, creating a large earth pillar for him to land on.

Feet touching the dirt in a matter of seconds, Clay could feel Dream concentrate for a second, before they started to sink into the dirt. 

Bouncing them right back up, Dream’s back to swinging across tree branches, running along lower ones as much as possible.

Clay could slowly start to recognize the coming scenery, similar to the one he had explored the previous night.

Dream, noticing Clay’s surprise in his head, immediately drops to the ground, smirk on his face.

“You could tell we were coming back here, right?” Dream says, dashing across the forest floor.

Clay wants to nod, giving his best attempt mentally.

Dream, now starting to pick up speed, starts climbing up the mountain ahead of them, and Clay gets a sudden realization as to where they were heading.

“Oh, so you could tell, right? It isn’t as late as last time, I think we could talk to them for a bit.”

Clay almost takes control of the body right then there, mid step and ready to turn the course right around.

Was Dream crazy?

Why would he want to spend any longer with those two, what were their names, George and Sapnap?

Dream barely even knew them! Clay even less!

Why would they go all this way?

Dream ran on, ignoring all the mental protest from Clay, save for one.

“You really always find a way to call me insane, huh?” Dream points out, amused.

Clay’s thoughts immediately ran into a standstill, too sheepish to answer that.

Dream starts wheezing, not from the amount of running he was doing, but instead from his laughter.

Clay wants to run and hide.

He forgot Dream could hear all of that.

“I didn’t mean it like that! No way!” He says, an embarrassed mess.

“I know you’re joking, no problem,” Dream says, in between laughs.

His wheezing continued despite Clay’s silence, Dream continued to run on.

Eventually, nearing the clearing George and Sapnap had made camp in, the laughter started to die down.

Clay, at this point, had already resigned to his fate. 

He really regrets letting Dream take all control by now.

Slowing to a stop, Dream carefully approaches the camp, seeing the beige colored tents start to appear in his vision.

George and Sapnap were both seated by a campfire, doing seemingly separate tasks as the fire burnt in front of the two.

Starting to get an idea, Dream rubs his palms together.

“Dream. No. We are not doing that.” 

Suddenly looking around in shock, it was Dream’s turn to be embarrassed now.

“I forgot you could also hear me.” Dream says, equally sheepish in tone.

Clay shakes his head in disappointment, finally taking control of his body to do so.

Dream seemed to get even more embarrassed at this, starting to scratch the back of his head.

“But it’s true. It would be rather funny.”

“So you agree with me?”

“Dream, agreeing isn’t permission.”

But it was already too late, Dream had already leapt into the trees surrounding George and Sapnap.

Sighing mentally, Clay starts to feel mass annoyance.

Observing the two adventurers, Clay could tell they were on low guard.

Weapons far out behind them, not a care in the world, the two looked so peaceful despite the scowl on George’s face and the sweat pouring down Sapnap’s.

Very much regretting it, Clay gives Dream the signal to go.

It was Dream’s idea, not his.

Dangerous smile on his face that you would never in any circumstance see on Clay, Dream leaps off the tree, silent as ever.

Landing on solid ground, Dream taps George on the back before George turns around on his own, ice shards in hand.

“Oh my gods, who’s there?” George screams, his voice going up in pitch as his sentence goes on.

Dream wheezes, yet again, despite the sharp ice a mere finger length in front of his face.

Sapnap’s in the back, laughing at George’s sudden silence and red face.

“George! You have the dumbest screams,” Sapnap says between laughs, pointing at the older man.

“No I don’t! Shut up!” George turns back to look at Sapnap, indignation in his face.

“Yes, you do! Dream, tell him that.”

“It’s true, George. That was the stupidest scream I’ve ever heard in my life!” Dream tells the two, wheezing all the while.

Clay could agree. 

That was really stupid sounding.

Also laughing at George in his mind, the sudden squeakiness of his high pitched voice kept replaying, making Dream laugh even harder.

The three of them sat there, George angrily staring at the two younger boys surrounding him and watching the two of them laugh at him.

Slowly, it trickled down to a lingering wheeze in Dream’s breathing, silence surrounding the three.

Resting in silence, Sapnap and George get back to the tasks they were doing while Dream makes himself a seat by the two and looks around.

Clay could admit he liked how it ended.

Minimal negative consequences for anyone, Clay was pleased, watching the two out of the corner of his eyes.

Dream scoffed at his sappiness, a slight sound buried quickly by the crackle of the campfire.

As the two adventurers finished up their work, Sapnap turned back to Dream, curiously in his eyes.

“So, what brings you back here? Why’d you just suddenly disappear last night?”

Catching Dream and Clay off guard, they could only chuckle nervously as George nodded in agreement with his partner.

Tasks finished and left aside, Sapnap continues to pry, eying Dream with searching eyes, with George joining in.

“Yeah, that.” 

Clay wanted to slap Dream.

Is that all that he could answer? 

Last night wasn’t the greatest idea anyone had, but was this guy for real?

Continuing his nervous chuckle, Dream could only ignore Clay’s annoyed whine in his head, making Clay continue the rant.

Sapnap raises his eyebrows as if to ask ‘are you serious?’

Dream continues his spiel.

“Uh, yeah, last night. I wanted to catch up tonight, slightly earlier so we’d have the time to! It was getting really late so I had to go home, you know, parents?” Nervously looking to the side, he’s still chuckling even as he saw George and Sapnap warily take his explanation.

Clay was glad that the mask covered most of his face.

Otherwise, he could tell if they saw the cold sweat he was in and the nervous furrow of his brow that they wouldn’t have taken anything else out of his mouth much more seriously than Dream’s first answer.

Dream changes the topic.

“So, you guys. What did you end up doing today, you know, after I left?” 

Staring pointedly at George, Dream silently begs him to take the topic change.

Seeing him perk up in what could be either relief or excitement, Clay knew Dream had made the right choice.

“We had to finish our quest, right?” George started, easily discernible that he was annoyed.

Dream nods for him to go on.

“Well that would be easy, just finding a single flower somewhere growing on this mountain, if it wasn’t for how vague his description was?” 

The temperature surrounding the frustrated explorer dropped sharply, becoming close to freezing temperature in a matter of seconds.

Clay watches on nervously as George clenches his hands, ice spikes starting to form on his shoulders.

“Like, my gods, literally! All he said was that it was in a ‘puddle of moonlight, shining with the moon’s power’ of some sort! Is that even possible?” 

The ice spikes get larger.

Sapnap takes the time to heat up his palms, walking over to George to warm him up.

Meeting the ice forming on George with a single wave of his hand, Sapnap heads back to his seat around the fire when George didn’t notice he was soaked with water.

“This man has the audacity! Sure, it pays well, but this is literally almost impossible! He also expects us to make dye from it? Is that even possible?” 

Ice spikes immediately back and taller than they were the last time, Sapnap sighs and stays in his seat, now content to let them grow.

Dream seemed amused by the adventurer’s frustration, crossing his arms and leaning back in his seat by the fire.

Clay on the other hand, was watching the ice spikes anxiously, watching them start to grow larger and larger, and get more out of hand.

Dream, letting the man rant, scoots over to Sapnap.

George, unaware of his thinning audience, continues on, yelling now at thin air.

Dream gives Sapnap a quick nudge, holding his hand up to his mouth in an attempt to be quiet.

Speaking directly into Sapnap’s ear, Dream elicits a response from the fire user. 

“He’s going to go on for a long time, isn’t he.”

Smirk on Sapnap’s face, he responds, hand covering his mouth in a similar fashion as Dream.

“Yeah man, definitely. He always ends up ranting like this when he’s angry. Which is a lot, by the way.”

Dream chuckles at that.

“Yeah, seems like it.”

Clay could still hear George’s borderline yelling about the man who sent them on the quest, nervous for Dream’s previous seat as it started to get covered in a layer of frost.

Dream seemed to be ignoring George and his crazed rant, something Clay wished he could do.

Sitting in a comfortable silence even with the background noise, Sapnap hands Dream a piece of cooked pork chop from on top of the fire.

Both quietly eating the piece of meat, they watch George continue to yell, waiting for when he notices his audience was nowhere to be found.

“And no way in—“ George pauses mid sentence.

Knowing they got caught, Dream and Sapnap brace themselves for even more yelling from the older man.

Slowly turning around, George sees the two seated by each other, pork in hand, looking like they’ve just enjoyed a nice conversation all during his rant, which he had assumed at least Dream was listening to.

The expression of sheer betrayal on his face was comical, even funny to Clay, who had to admit, definitely did laugh along with Dream and Sapnap.

“Are you for real? Did you literally just have me yell at air for the past, what? Half hour?”

The two ignore his protest, laughing and holding their stomachs at the sheer anger in George’s face.

With Dream’s loud wheezing and Sapnap’s violent laughter, Clay, Dream, and Sapnap could barely hear George’s second rant, this time directed directly at them.

Squinted eyes from the amount of laughing he was doing, Dream watches the older man stamp his foot several times, eventually pausing both that and his yelling when he could tell the two of them weren’t yelling.

Sitting back down on his now frozen seat, George huffs in annoyance, arms crossed and tightly around his chest.

Seeing this cracked them up even more, continuing their laughing at him.

George’s annoyance was clear even with the clunky goggles covering most of his face, and he quickly grabbed a large piece of meat to eat, shoving it in his mouth aggressively.

With tears in their eyes from the sheer laughter, Sapnap and Dream only start to trail off in their excitement when they notice George start to calm down, pork getting more and more eaten in his hands.

Finishing off theirs too, the three eventually settled into a calm silence, with the crickets in the forest and the fire providing nice background noise.

Now with them all cooled down, Sapnap continues their previous discussion.

“So, Dream. How’s the taste of adventurer’s life? You did mention you were curious about it last night.”

Dream, now finally in the mood for questions, thinks about it for a second.

Carefully, he asks Clay in his head, not up for faking any more responses.

Clay takes a second as well to collect his thoughts, conveying them to Dream as he did so.

“I guess you could say I wanted to see what was out there. Get a taste for action, or something. Try out something new.” Dream answers in place of Clay, almost word for word of what he had told him.

“Huh, so that's how it went for you. I honestly did it because I wanted to burn things down.”

Dream and Clay were both caught aback at that sentence.

George watches on, amused.

“I wanted to do something with my life, you know? Having fire powers makes that choice easy. Except when you get wanted posters. Except for that.”

Clay sits stunned.

Dream on the contrary, Dream had started wheezing again, which by now, had started to sound commonplace on Clay’s ears

George takes the time to speak up.

“Your pyromania is literally why we’re stuck doing this quest.” 

“Is not!” Sapnap replies, indignant.

“If you didn’t burn down that one farm, we’d be doing better quests than this! You got us demoted in the ranking.”

“It was an accident, I swear! I didn’t mean to do it on purpose.”

“We were in the village center! That farm was on the outskirts of town! Why would you even go there?”

“You know, Sapnap. Accidentally burning down a farm seems like a stretch if you were in town only for the quests.” Dream butts in, pointing out the obvious.

Now red in the face and offended by the two ganging up on him, Sapnap roughly changes the topic.

“Yeah, and? George was the one here who almost flooded a town trying to use his powers while trying to fight mobs by a lava pool!”

“You—“

Sitting back for another large argument, Dream takes the time to look back up at the moon, seeing how it had kept moving as they talked.

It was really time for the two to get home.

Last time they barely managed before Clay’s mom got up for her dawn gardening.

Grimacing, Clay remembers how he had taken control as they were climbing back up to his room, and how he had almost dropped them down in the haste.

“You do know that was really dumb, right.” Dream’s voice cuts through the mental silence, despite his lips not even having moved.

“Oh, obviously, and don’t you realize we don’t want a repeat of that again, do we?” Clay retorts, almost defensive.

Dream takes a moment of silence before quickly giving a grunt of agreement.

Looking back at the two arguing adventurers, the two give a knowing smile.

They were definitely going to go at it for a while.

Dream takes their distraction to use as a cover, and with silence he takes to the trees, quick to jump high and catch a branch for him to land on.

Balancing himself, he starts jumping from tree to tree, ready to make the trek back.

Knocking down a spider as he went, the spider’s silk dropped to the ground as the rest of the spider disintegrated into a fine powder, blown away in the wake of Dream quickly taking the bundle of silk and continuing on with his journey back.

By now George and Sapnap should have known he was missing, if the screams from where he had came from in the forest had anything to say, and Clay was silently giving thanks to whatever god had let them pass the two unnoticed.

Without much more hindrance, the two near the village in a flash, the moon in almost the same position it had been in as they started their trek back.

Dream slows down, starting to get near the village.

Clay’s silent impatience starts to manifest itself in momentary blips of control over his legs, making Dream start to stumble as he leapt from tree to tree.

Smile plastered on his face, he nears the final stretch.

“Clay, could you just stop that? I’m not really willing to fall on your face and break it just yet.”

Caught slightly off guard, Clay stops what he was doing in sheepish silence.

Eagerly waiting to be back in his bed, he does however attempt to urge Dream into running faster.

“‘It’s just a little bit more,’ you keep telling me, Clay do you know how annoying it is to run when I have you talking to me as I do it?” 

Clay kept on pushing.

“Just hurry.”

“Fine, fine, I get it! Just calm down!”

Making the last few jumps, Dream exits the now thinning forest, landing in a roll as he drops off from the last tree.

Reaching the same wall from last night, Dream smirks.

“You aren’t going to do what you did last night, right?”

“I know, I know! Just hurry, my mom’s going to be up soon. And my bed’s waiting. Just hurry up.”

“Yep, yep,”

Dream took the same path as they did the last time, quickly swinging across the smallest possible foot and handholds to effortlessly scale the wall.

Clay’s patiently waiting, bracing for when he could finally get inside his room and go to bed.

Moonlight already piercing through his still open window, Dream finally grabs the windowsill.

“Finally here, huh? Looks like being patient has its benefits.” Dream muses with a chuckle, purposely ignoring Clay’s annoyed comments.

Stepping foot through the window, the candle puts itself out in Dream’s wake, shutting the window as he slides off his desk.

Clay, finally back where he wanted to be, swiftly takes back control of his body, sliding the mask out of the way before falling back on his bed.

Closing his eyelids, he relaxes for a good night’s sleep.

Seeing a vague figure in the darkness, he turns to get a better look, before falling asleep mid turn.

. . .

Wings beating, a man carefully clutches his items to his chest, unwilling to let them go from this height.

Below him lay a wide forest, stretching out far and far across the horizon.

Carelessly flying higher in the air, the man lets himself drift in the moonlit sky.

Seeing a speck of light from afar in the dark forest, he cranes his neck to see it better.

Beating his wings in order to speed up, he could soon see the silhouette of a modest wooden cabin start to emerge in the distance.

Smiling, he chides himself.

He’s been out here on his own for years now, the last time he had stayed outside of the forest being months ago, how could he forget where his house was after this long?

With a quick flourish of his gray feathered wings, he spins into a dive, descending quickly.

In the last minute pulling up and into a proper landing position, he touches down onto the ground, strong beats of his wings slowing him down enough so he could land on his feet safely.

Checking if his materials still lay by his chest, the man straightens himself back up from his quick descent, adjusting the white and green bucket hat on his head.

Folding his wings towards himself, they tuck themselves in place seamlessly behind his back.

Warm light spilling outside his window and lighting up the ways around his cabin, the winged man pushes open his worn door, swinging open smoothly.

Brushing off his sandals as he enters the wide living space greeting him when he walks in, he nudges them carefully towards the wall, tucking them in a neat crevice by the door.

Setting down his materials delicately on a table, he brushes his front clean of dust, said dust billowing around him in a thin cloud.

Sighing, he leaves the clean up for that for later.

He could deal with it after his sleep.

Looking back out the window, he could see the moon travel overhead as the night passed.

Waking closer towards his wide window, he leans by the wall next to it, tired limbs trailing behind him.

How long had it been since the last time someone had come to his cabin?

Granted, it was out in the middle of the forest.

But occasionally, he would have an influx of new adventurers start to crawl the land around him, and him, being the generous soul he was, would let him have lodging at his cabin for as long as they needed.

But how long exactly had it been since the last time someone had stumbled upon him?

He knew it had been at least a while, a few months at least.

Judging by the summer season, he knew it was time for the new adventurers to start their journeys.

Quiet longing in his eyes, he lets out a drawn out sigh.

If anyone were to come, who would they be this time? 

Would they be the usual wide-eyed and eager teens, ready for the uncertainty of their future?

Would they be a well traveled veteran of the path of an adventurer, already having seen the struggles of forever traveling?

He shook his head.

He didn’t know.

He would let anyone in regardless, he knew.

Feeling a yawn start to crawl up his throat, he remembers why he was in such a rush to get home in the first place.

Sluggishly standing back up, Phil starts to retreat back to his bedroom for the night, picking up the small lit candle he had left inside his living area from before his errand along the way.

Blowing it out as he trudged along, he’s left in the darkness of the wide space in his cabin.

Pushing open the door to his room, he sets the candle down by his bed.

Taking the striped bucket hat off his head and leaving it next to the candle, he doesn’t bother to take off his jacket before flopping down on his bed, wings momentarily opening and slowing his fall.

Touching his face on his mattress, he falls asleep instantly, the cold relief of unconsciousness flooding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I’ll slow down with uploading, Nano has finally started to stress me out. Stress writing he we go

**Author's Note:**

> I’m trying to update daily but I’m the worst at finishing chapters quick and insist on large word counts per chapter.


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